Opus Insert
by Ninja Violinist
Summary: On what appears to be a routine hunt, the Winchesters head to California and discover the Slayer... along with the god she's been forced to battle. SPN 11/BtVS 5
1. Part I: Chapter 1

Disclaimer - Buffy belongs to Whedon and Supernatural belongs to Kripke. If any of them want to sell, I've got three quarters and a lint ball in my pocket.

 **WARNING:** This work includes spoilers for Buffy season 5 and Supernatural season 11.

* * *

 **Note regarding timelines:**

This begins during Buffy season 5 (5.12–5.13) and Supernatural season 11 (11.4–11.5). Because of the time disparities between the two shows I've moved Buffy up into 2016 rather than the other way around. This means the tech in the Buffyverse will be updated, smartphones and wifi and such.

Commentary and critiques are always welcome!

* * *

Going westbound on a dark, isolated stretch of interstate highway 70 roared the engine of a 1967 Chevrolet Impala. Its occupants were two brothers, Dean and Sam Winchester, known infamously by those seeped in the dark ways of the supernatural as a bane and a menace. By their hands, those who would prey on mankind had been cut down by the hundreds, perhaps the _thousands_ , over the years as they traveled back and forth across the country. Their most recent "job" was leading them to…

"' _Sunnydale_ '?" grumped the driver, the elder brother Dean, a man in his late thirties with piercing green eyes, short cut brown hair, and ruggedly handsome features. "Who the hell names their town 'Sunnydale'? It's like you wanna advertise the fact that you're lame."

"I think there's a UC there," replied his brother Sam, a taller man four years younger with shoulder length hair and a face that leaned more towards pretty than handsome. He shifted a little on the passenger's side; ten years gone and the reminder of his forced abandonment of Stanford Law and a normal, white-collared life still had the power to sting.

"Well there's a silver lining," Dean said with a smirk. "Coeds."

Sam stared disapprovingly. "You're disgusting."

The older Winchester grimaced and shrugged. "I still don't see what we're doing out here in California when we should be looking for something to deal with Amara."

"Dude, we've been over this. We've got nothing. Might as well go out and do a job and help someone."

"Well it's more interesting than sittin' around on our butts. So what're we looking at again?"

"Five people who have gone suddenly insane," replied the younger Winchester as he shuffled through a few printouts. "All within the past few months, all perfectly normal one day; can't see reality the next."

"Like, murderous rampage insane?"

"No, more like schizophrenic. Babbling nonsense mostly."

"Sounds like a wraith. Or a ghost."

"Could be a witch."

"Oh, please not a witch," moaned the older brother. "I _hate_ witches."

The two sat in companionable silence, the elder concentrating on the road (and desperately hoping it wasn't a bodily fluid spewing, stinky spell ingredient using, ugly crabby witch) and the younger opening the browser on his smartphone. "Huh."

"Now what?" growled Dean.

"For a small town, this place has a _really_ high murder rate. Lots of drug related deaths, people going crazy on PCP or meth. Not a whole lot of anything else, maybe a few shootings or stabbings; deputy mayor got killed a few years back. Get this, the high school exploded during graduation. Fire department chalked it up to a gas leak."

"Sounds like people in this town get really bored."

"We'll see when we get there," Sam replied as he pocketed his phone. "I'm going to get some sleep."

"Betcha when we get there all we do is add to the insanity."

* * *

Buffy Summers, college student and, presently, very perturbed Vampire Slayer, closed the Magic Box door behind the last retreating Watcher. As a petite, blonde young woman (barely scraping past five feet in height), most of them had towered over her, and yet they were the ones who cowered. Less than an hour before she had firmly tiered the hierarchal structure between her, the Chosen One, and them, the Chosen One's so-called guardians, with herself high up on top. However, the revelations imparted by their leader, Quentin Travers, in regards to the latest Big Bad to grace their town had her regretting, maybe a _little_ , how harsh she had been.

Defeating a Hellgod would take every iota of knowledge and strength that they could get their hands on.

She turned to face her friends gathered about the shop's reading table, every one of the dumbstruck. "A… god," stammered Xander Harris, a tall, dark haired young man whose normal upbeat, witty demeanor was blanketed by shock. "An honest-to-god _god_."

"Yes, well," said Rupert Giles, the group's paternal figure, owner of the Magic Box, and the only Watcher Buffy would ever trust. His usual English stoicism seemed absent as he nervously adjusted his spectacles. "Suddenly I feel the urge to panic just a little."

"That's okay!" chirped Anya Jenkins, formerly Anyanka, vengeance demon and patroness to scorned women, now a (relatively) normal young woman working minimum wage for Giles at the shop. "I feel the urge to panic a lot."

The last two people present stood together silently against a bookcase. Red-haired Willow Rosenberg was one of Buffy's oldest Sunnydale friends. Normally a bundle of cheer and optimism, she anxiously grasped the hand of her girlfriend, Tara Maclay, a soft-eyed ombré dyed blonde. The power that flowed through their clasped hands was rooted in both the emotional and the mystical as both were practicing witches.

Buffy rubbed her temples in an attempt to relieve her encroaching headache. "Look," she said, "it's late, I'm tired, and there's nothing we can really do right this second so I'm going to go home and pretend to sleep."

"Hear, hear!" Xander exclaimed in agreement.

The Slayer and her friends left the Magic Box en masse with Giles locking the door behind them. As the others headed their separate ways, the elder man placed a gentle hand on Buffy's shoulder. "Try not to worry so much. Everything has a weakness; we just need to find out what it is."

"Thanks, Giles," she replied with a monstrous effort to form a smile. "I just hope we find _that_ before she finds the Key."

The Watcher and his Slayer brooded for a moment about their shared secret. "In the meantime," Giles finally said, "perhaps go check on Glory's victims. They may start pointing us towards her base of operations."

"I suppose. Who knows what kind of crazies might be out there ready to add to the insanity?"


	2. Part I: Chapter 2

Dean rolled the Impala into the cheapest, seediest motel in the city early the next morning. The "Sunnydale Motor Inn" proclaimed in bright neon letters that it rented both daily and weekly. Dean hoped the latter wouldn't be necessary, but the town's landmarks made him pessimistic.

"Did you see the size of that graveyard?" he asked as he grabbed his backpack and shut the car door. "If this is a ghost we could be here for frigging forever."

Sam jiggled the ancient door lock to their appointed room until it finally gave. The double twin beds were the most appealing pieces of furniture as the rest was in dire need of replacing. Everything bore the unmistakable sign of having been used by a revolving door of questionable vagrants. Dean glanced at the bathroom and was relieved to see that it was, at least, clean.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"About 9."

"Good. I'm going to hit the shower and then we can head for the hospital."

Sam reached into his duffel bag and extracted two suits and a box of various counterfeit IDs. As Dean reached for his favorite blacks and a matching red tie, his younger brother thoughtfully perused the plastic cards before tossing one over.

"' _CDC_ '? Seriously?"

"No one's dead that we know of," shrugged Sam, "so FBI's out. Really doubt an animal's involved so no animal control, no park ranger-"

"I get it, I get it," Dean interrupted. "We can go _after_ I'm not so stinky."

* * *

Buffy yawned at the auditorium doorway as she exited her 8am English lecture. "Classes this early need to be banned."

Close behind her walked Willow, her expression more perturbed than sleepy. "Why does every depiction of a witch have to be so… so _prejudicial_? I'm sure Macbeth was all murder-happy even before he met those three nice sisters."

"Weird sisters, Willow," corrected Tara.

"I meant what I said," her girlfriend replied, affecting a smug and haughty air.

"Whose sister? A _weird_ sister? Is Dawn here?"

Bewildered, Buffy began maniacally scanning about for her younger sibling. She stopped only when Willow patted her arm.

"It's okay, Buffy," her friend said sympathetically, "I'll let you look at my notes."

"M-me too," Tara added, smiling through her slight stutter.

"Thanks you two," Buffy said gratefully. "All that junk from yesterday didn't really make for a restful night."

"Understandable," nodded Willow. "I mean, a god! Whoosh! Hey, Tara and I are going to start looking through Giles' library later, see if we can't find any helpful, god squashing spells. Wanna come with?"

"Nah, I've got one more class and then Giles wants me to check on the crazies at the hospital, see if any of their babble has any useful Glory info. Doubt it, but maybe it'll be less nonsensical than Shakespeare."

"Well, ' _infected minds to their dead pillows will discharge their secrets_.'"

"Huh?"

"It's from Macbeth, what Professor Donaldson was just talking about? I just reinterpreted what the doctor told–never mind," Willow said as Buffy looked more and more flummoxed, "make sure you get my notes, okay?"

The three friends embraced and headed their separate ways. Buffy stared wistfully after the two women as they walked and held hands. They whispered and shared a conspiratorial giggle before Willow planted a light kiss on Tara's lips. Love infused the simple gesture. With a sigh for her own disastrous romances, the Slayer headed off to anatomy. At least this class was useful; knowing which organs and muscles were the most vulnerable was really starting to help with combat training.

* * *

The Winchesters pulled into Sunnydale Memorial shortly before 10:30am prepped with suits, badges, and an EMF secreted into Sam's inside breast pocket. After a small maze of corridors they arrived at the besieged nurse's station at the Intensive Care Unit, badges prominently displayed.

"Agents Williams and Ragsdale of the CDC," Dean announced. "We've been sent here to look into the sudden increase of mental patients?"

Amidst the chaos a middle aged nurse sporting a set of pink scrubs and a frazzled brunette ponytail pointed at a nearby doctor. "You'll want to speak with him. Now if you'll excuse me…"

As the woman turned to field another call, the Winchesters turned to the pinpointed individual. The man in blue scrubs seemed surprisingly young and was, at the moment, writing furiously on a clipboard. As he wrote he instructed a nurse on what to do regarding a patient's medications. Soon as he had finished and the other man had whisked away with the information, Dean tapped the doctor on the shoulder. He turned, bewildered at the sight of two officious looking strangers, and glanced down at their badges. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Agent Ragsdale and this is Agent Williams," Sam replied. "We're here to see the unusual mental patients that have come in the past two months?"

"Uh, yes," the doctor muttered then smothered a yawn. "Sorry, in the middle of a double shift. I didn't think the CDC would be interested. They're not contagious."

"Well, we just want to make sure," Dean explained. "Don't want the crazies to become the next H1N1."

The doctor gave him a bemused look before gesturing for the two of them to follow him down the hall. Sam gave his brother a glare. Silently, Dean mouthed "What?" before the doctor spoke again.

"They've been coming in pretty regularly, and we honestly don't have any idea what's caused their mental degradation. MRI shows a completely normal brain which is frankly astonishing, but PET scans show a kind of activity that we've only seen in patients with schizophrenia or dementia. Nothing in common physically except for being male. Other than that, different ethnicities, different lifestyles, even live in different parts of the city. Well, here they are."

The doctor stopped in front of a set of swinging doors. He glanced at his watch. "Feel free to question them. If you get any coherent answers, or if you want to do anything more invasive, please come find me first."

Sam nodded. "Will do, doctor…?"

"Wilkinson, but you can call me Ben."

* * *

As soon as Dean made sure that they weren't being observed, Sam pulled out the EMF reader and began waving it around the muttering men strapped to their beds. "Nothing, so it's not a ghost."

"Thank God," sighed Dean as his brother put the device back in his pocket. "Wasn't looking forward to the million year hunt through that graveyard. Think we should set up some mirrors, see if Doc Wilkinson or somebody's a wraith?"

Sam leaned in and examined the side of a patient's head. "No entry wounds around the brain." He stood straight and shrugged. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there's nothing supernatural to this after all."

* * *

As Agents Williams and Ragsdale continued to ponder the validity of their current case, Buffy Summers skipped lightly around the corner into the ICU. She gave her favorite medical resident a smile. "Hey Ben!"

"Buffy," greeted the aspiring doctor warmly. "What are you doing here? Is your mom having problems?"

"Oh no, mom's at home sporting the headscarf, taking all sorts of advantage of her poor daughters just because you guys put a hole in her skull." A moment of awkward silence ensued as Buffy searched for an excuse, a dirty limerick, _anything_ to avoid revealing that she'd come to spy on Dr. Wilkinson's patients. She came up blank and instead said the next thing that popped into her head: "So! How's the doctoring thing going?"

* * *

"Dean."

The elder Winchester swiveled around towards the familiar, gravelly voice. Standing where seconds before had been empty, sanitized, hospital tile was the angel, Castiel, dressed in his familiar suit, slightly oversized trench coat, and backwards tie. Dean should have been used to his friend's sudden appearances after seven years of association but somehow he was always taken by surprise.

"Jesus, Cass! _Call_ next time!"

Unperturbed, the angel frowned at the hunter. "Why are you on a Hellmouth?"

"A _what_?"

"A Hellmouth."

Both brothers were baffled. "What's that?" Sam asked.

Castiel opened his mouth to answer when suddenly one of the patients, a middle-aged man with a paunch and receding hairline, lifted his head and moaned, "Wings, why does he have wings? Shredded, shiny, pretty, so _pretty_ , but why? Wings!"

The other patients, roused by their companion, began echoing the query to the confusion of both men and seraph. When Castiel once again tried to answer Dean's question, the timber of the mad ramblings suddenly changed from perplexity to panic.

"No! Too bright! My eyes! _He'll take my eyes!_ " screamed a young, college age man.

"My eyes!"

"Too tall! He's too _tall_!"

"Why?" sobbed the first man. "Why did someone break the pretty wings?"

* * *

"Dealing with a couple of guys from the CDC," Ben replied, thumbing towards the double swinging doors. "They said they wanted to make sure there wasn't some new infectious disease going around. Personally, I think some of our government agencies might just have too much time on their hands."

Buffy nodded sympathetically. "CDC." She thought for a moment. "Don't they have an actual plan for a zombie apocalypse?"

The resident chuckled. "Yeah, I think so. I–" Ben turned towards the doors as the voices of his normally somnambulant patients became loud enough to penetrate into the hallway. "What in the world…?"

* * *

As the volume and hysteria of the madmen increased, Sam joined the others and loudly observed, "That's impossible! They shouldn't be able to see what you are, Cass. What's going on?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out."

Moments before Dr. Wilkinson burst through the double doors to find the source of his patients' agitation, the angel left in the same manner that he had arrived: quietly and without preamble.

"Gee, thanks a lot," Dean grumbled as the angry doctor demanded to know what had happened to set the madmen off.

* * *

Buffy only half heard the excuses and placations coming from the suits. The others were beginning to quiet, except for the one that still occasionally snuffled about broken wings, so the crisis seemed to be drawing to a close. Yet she was still rooted to her spot.

The man in the trench coat had _vanished_. Not left the room, stepped into a portal, or phased through a wall: vanished. Into thin air.

Not only that, he had seen _her_. Glanced over just long enough for the two of them to meet eyes. In that moment the Slayer had felt fear skim an icy finger down her spine.

That man knew exactly who, and most importantly _what_ , she was.


	3. Part I: Chapter 3

"Nothing!" Sam exclaimed irritably several hours later as he angrily slapped closed his laptop. He leaned back on their motel room's sturdiest, albeit duct-taped, dining chair, clothed comfortably in jeans and T-shirt. "Nada! Zip! _Zilch_! It's like this is a completely isolated incident."

Dean (also more cozily dressed) flipped through their father's journal while sitting on his bed and stated, "I've got things that _eat_ brains, things that _suck out_ brains, things that drink _spinal fluid_ ; all of which leave people kind of, you know, dead. These dudes are alive and kicking. Other than being nuts."

"We're lucky _we're_ alive after that doctor went ballistic on us."

"Yeah, stupid Cass. Hey wait," said Dean as he carefully closed the journal, "wasn't he asking something? About a Hellmoth?"

"HellMOUTH," Sam corrected as he reopened his computer and began a search. After a few minutes he told his brother, "Nothing specific about it from reliable sources. Mostly crackpots that think that it's a term for either a dimensional portal or a gate to Hell."

The elder Winchester wiped a hand down his face as he recalled the harrowing events associated with the first time they'd dealt with a Hellgate. Then he reconsidered. "If this were a gate to Hell I'm sure Crowley would've staked a claim already and we'd be ass deep in black-eyed demons by now."

"True," Sam agreed as he continued googling. "Hey, look at this. There's a place in town called 'The Magic Box.' Supposed to be stock full of real spell ingredients and, more importantly, rare books on the occult."

Dean raised a doubtful eyebrow at his brother. "You really think there might be something there that the Men of Letters never drooled over?"

The younger Winchester shrugged. "Never know. Might as well stock up on some holy water at least."

"Fine," grumbled Dean. "First let's grab some grub. I could really use a hamburger and a beer."

* * *

Forty five minutes later, satisfyingly full and mildly inebriated, the Winchesters parked the Impala and walked a short distance down Sunnydale's Main Street to the Magic Box. A hanging bell rang a friendly chime as Sam opened the door. The brothers paused and looked around, rather impressed.

The quaint, quiet interior boasted two levels (broken by a set of two-step stairs) with shelves both on the walls and on independent displays, all of which were stock full of mystical items. Inventory ranged from the more mundane canisters of dried herbs to several exotic statuettes. A large table near the entrance contained knickknacks and what appeared to be spell ingredients. Dean gleefully pointed at one of them. "Dude, check it out. Actual 'eye of newt.' Twelve bucks a pound."

"Can I help you?"

The brothers straightened from their morbid examination of bottled eyeballs to see a man with at least a decade of age on them standing on the other side of the table. His face, round and bespectacled, bore a congenial smile. He wore slacks and a knit sweater (sleeves rolled up for the heat) which sort of brought to mind a kindly librarian. The English accent only enhanced the effect. In his hands was an open book bearing, as much as could be told when looking at it upside down, a picture of some hideous, tentacled beast on one side and accompanying text on the other. "We're looking for books," replied Sam. "Something along the lines of, well, that." He pointed at the gruesome image.

"Ah, a fellow scholar of demonology?" the man commented genially. "Come with me." He snapped the volume closed and beckoned Sam towards the back of the store. The two immediately began a companionable discussion regarding the contents of their own libraries as they perused the available selection. Dean rolled his eyes, muttered " _dork_ ", and continued to look around the shop. He paused at one rather lascivious looking idol and leaned in for a closer look.

"That's Inanna, Sumerian goddess of female fertility and sex. Those are her breasts."

Dean turned to see a young woman with shoulder length, curled brown hair and pretty, angular features. She wore a flowery spring dress and a smile that didn't quite reach all the way to her eyes. The elder Winchester was a little taken aback at the matter-of-fact manner of her speech. "Yes, I know what boobs are," he retorted.

"Of course you do," she replied. "I, of course, have a pair and know exactly what they'd look like. Would you like to buy her?"

There was no condescending tone, no smirk on her lips that would denote whether the woman was being glib or serious. "Uh no," he answered. Then, mostly to himself, he muttered, "Bet you and Cass would have some real interesting conversations."

"Beg pardon? Were you talking about Inanna's _ass_? It really is as nicely formed as her breasts."

"I'll pass, thanks. You just reminded me of my friend, Castiel."

The disingenuous smile froze on her face. She turned about, searching through the shop windows before settling on one that had an untrammeled view of the Impala. "Say, is that yours?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I see. Good day!" Without further ado the young woman turned on her heel and went behind the counter to sit near the cash register. She pointedly did not look in Dean's direction again.

Sam returned with the elder man a few moments later with several books. As Dean placed a few bottles of holy water and a twenty on the counter, the younger Winchester introduced the Englishman. "Hey. This is Rupert Giles, he owns this place. Apparently he's the local expert on the occult and all things supernatural."

"A pleasure," the man greeted as he shook Dean's hand.

"He's giving these to me on a loan," continued Sam. "You know, for our ' _book_ '? We just leave a credit card number with Anya here and then we're good to go."

"All right then." Dean withdrew his wallet and pulled out one of the less dubious of their fake Visas. Anya, the odd brunette, ran the card under a pressure based carbon copy reader and handed it back. Her lips were set in a thin line as she looked back and forth between the Winchester brothers.

The hunters and the shopkeeper shook hands and departed amicably despite the unfriendliness radiating from the young woman. They were at the door when she shouted, "Thank you for your invisible money. Please don't come too back soon!"

The brothers exchanged baffled looks before leaving the shop for the Impala. "I swear," Dean said as he unlocked his door, "they have to be putting something in the water here. Everyone's _weird_."

* * *

Giles turned towards Anya with the intention of dressing her down for her unprofessional demeanor. "If you're going to work in my shop-"

"Giles, those were _hunters_ ," Anya interjected, steamrolling over the impending lecture. "Not _bunny_ hunters (although the more of those the better): _monster_ hunters. As in indiscriminately murdering non-human things?"

"Good Lord, are you sure?" replied the Watcher as he hurried to the window. Once there, he whipped off his glasses and peered at the two men driving off in their black muscle car.

"And they're just not any hunters," Anya continued while safe behind the sales counter. "I've actually heard of them. I think they're called the _Winchesters_. They're two brothers who drive around in a car just like that, sometimes with a guy named Castiel. I think he's a warlock. They killed a friend of mine, Veritas? Could never tell a simple lie around her, not even 'oh, no that doesn't make you look chunky,' or 'no one will even notice the bloodstains,' or-"

"Giles!" cried Buffy as she burst through the Magic Box's entrance. "I saw a guy vanish today."

"What?" the elder man asked, flustered by both Anya's recitation and his Slayer's sudden arrival.

"Vanished! Poof! _Into thin air!_ Well, there was no poofing, more like he was there and then he wasn't."

Giles fastidiously cleaned his glasses on a handkerchief before replacing them on his nose. "I don't know, Buffy. Did the, um, did Glory's victims say anything useful?"

The young Slayer shrugged. "I dunno. All I heard was something about eyes and wings. But Giles," she said, following her Watcher as he walked away from the window to flip the " **CLOSED** " sign on the door, "this guy _knew_ I was the Slayer. Somehow when he looked at me I felt like he could see me, inside and out."

The elder man glanced towards his employee, the thousand year old former demon, for a theory and got a puzzled shrug. "Are you sure you didn't just misinterpret what you saw?"

"Not like what I saw earlier," proclaimed a smug-looking Anya. "There-"

"Anya," Giles said suddenly, "could you go into the cash register and tally the receipts?"

"You mean, _fondle the money_?" she responded excitedly. "I would love to!"

Bemused, Buffy watched the ex-demon cheerfully pull out a stack of dollars and begin to count. "She likes that just _way_ too much."

"Yes. So did you see what the man looked like before he vanished?"

"Dark haired, little shorter than you, trench coat, pretty good looking. In fact, all three of those guys were part of the tall, dark and handsome club."

"Guys? What guys?"

"Ben said they were with the CDC. One was super tall, hair to here, pretty face. Other one was a little shorter with a military cut. They looked kind of alike. Maybe they were brothers." With some alarm Buffy saw the blood drain from her Watcher's face.

"I-I see," he stammered. "If you'll excuse me I have a phone call to make."

"Are you okay?"

"Certainly, yes," a retreating Giles replied as his hip nearly toppled a display table. He instinctively righted a few of the wobbling jars. "I'll be right back."

Buffy approached the counter where Anya was now gleefully going through the quarters. "What's with him?"

"Can't talk, fondling coins."

The Slayer sighed. She looked at the clock and decided to head home for dinner and a quick nap before going out on patrol. Until some way could be found to defeat Glorificus she could at least do something normal…

…Like stake some vampires.


	4. Part I: Chapter 4

Three hours after they had returned from their shopping excursion, Sam had deeply engrossed himself in a volume titled, " _Demons and Demonology: a Guide_ ," and Dean had deeply engrossed himself in a large meat-lover's pizza. Sam paused his reading for a stretch and looked over to his older brother. The other Winchester had taken advantage of Sam's lack of vigilance to steal his younger brother's laptop and was browsing something intently. "Dude, you better not be looking at porn on that again."

"You'd know if I was," Dean replied around a mouthful of cheese and sausage.

"Yeah, because when I get it back I'll have thirty seven new viruses to clean off of it. What are you doing then?"

The elder Winchester shrugged. "Got cross-eyed looking at one of those stupid books. Town's only got one club. Thought I'd scope it out, see if there's anyone that'll lead us to anything."

"And the fact that it's probably crawling with coeds doesn't factor in any?"

"Maybe," his brother replied. He gave Sam a partially masticated pizza grin.

"Gross."

"You know you like it." Dean washed his last slice down with the remnants of his beer, stood, and headed for the bathroom to wash. As he walked out, drying his hands on a towel, he shrugged and said, "Doc said none of the crazies were the same and I saw at least one dude who looked like he should've been at a frat party. Plus… I can't look at that crap anymore."

"Yeah, half of this isn't making much sense to me either. This other book," Sam complained as he lifted one particularly ancient volume, "the whole thing's written in _ye old Shakespearean_ English." He sighed and stood up from his spot on the bed. "I might as well tag along."

"Fine," said Dean as he reached for the car keys, "long as you're coming as my wingman."

* * *

As far as night patrols went, Buffy had to admit this was one of the slowest. Only _one_ vamp had come crawling out of his supposed final place of rest (a misconception that was all too common in Sunnydale). Other than that there had been an isolated demonic encounter that consisted of scaring the pants off a girl with spikes sticking out of her skin. She'd been sitting on a tombstone eating a midnight snack and the crunching noises had made the Slayer suspicious. After it was determined that the demon was of the non-people eating variety (she was really into maggots) and apologies were given, the girl had offered some of her chips (which were maggot-flavored). Buffy respectfully declined and went on her way.

As she walked towards the cemetery exit, it occurred to her that Glory's presence and the lack of normal monster activity might be related. A shiver ran through her body as she considered the implications. Whatever the Hellgod was planning might just be horrifying and devastating enough that the standard Hellmouth demons had decided they needed to be elsewhere.

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed and miserable, Buffy leaned against the cemetery gate with tears pricking the corners of her eyes. First her mother's tumor, then finding out her little sister wasn't really her little sister, then missing Riley's helicopter by _that_ much, and last finding out that Glorificus wasn't just some bitch of a demon but a _god_ of all things…

What she wanted, no _needed_ , was a chance to blow off some steam. Buffy pulled out her cell phone and sent several texts. What better way to do that than with some friends, some music, and some dancing?

A night at The Bronze was just what the doctor ordered.

* * *

Earlier in the day Sam had hacked into the local police and fire department's database and perused the incident reports related to the mental patients. There were two scenarios that most of them fell into: either they had wandered home and their immediate families, unnerved by their loved ones sudden erratic behavior, had called 911 in concern; or they had been reported missing and the authorities had discovered them in their current state.

The exception was the college boy, Jason McClary from Massachusetts, here to study at UC Sunnydale on a scholarship and whose mother was still trying to scrape enough money together to afford the flight out to California. He'd come back to his dorm after a party, supposedly inebriated, and his roommate had dumped him at the hospital after Jason attacked him for "letting the building fall down on the horses."

Dean and Sam consequently spent their time at The Bronze posing as Jason's cousins there to comfort the poor boy until his mother could come. An hour and a half later, Sam plopped down on a bar stool across from his brother, clearly frustrated. "So far all I've learned is that Jason decided to go home, alone, in the middle of the party and that's the last anyone heard of him until he gave his roommate the black eye."

"I didn't even get that much," Dean shouted over the beginning of the local band's next song. He took a long swig of beer. "God, these guys suck. Anyways, all anyone talked about was how nice of a guy he was and how upset they all were."

The younger Winchester shrugged. "Guess this was a bust."

"Nah," his brother replied. From the table he lifted his phone and smirked. "Got seven phone numbers."

Sam rolled his eyes and they both made preparations to leave. As they walked out the back way the noise from the crowd and band swelled then cut abruptly as the door clicked closed. "Back to the books?" asked Sam.

"I guess," Dean muttered sullenly. His condemnation of the ensuing boredom went unsaid as a woman's cry of fear arrowed out from the north alley. The hunters hesitated a moment, exchanged alarmed looks, then sprinted towards the sound.

* * *

As Buffy jauntily approached The Bronze, she reflected on how convenient it was not to have to shake vampire dust out of her clothes for once. Maybe having Glory around could amount to a good thing. Then again, maybe Glory could solve everything by plugging the Hellmouth with her _fat butt_.

She paused, fairly certain she'd channeled her little sister with that thought. That pretty much sealed the deal on having a night off; thinking like a teenager was definitely a sign of mental shrinkage.

Then the Slayer heard a woman's cry of fear. With a sigh for her lost mini-vacation she ran into the alley.

* * *

Dean took the lead, edging around a dumpster to analyze the situation. A young woman was doing her best to fend off what a normal passer-by would have described as a sexual assault. Both experienced hunters, however, saw how the predatory nature of her assailant was more visceral than carnal.

"Vampire," Dean whispered as he pulled out his favorite Bowie knife. Sam made do with a discarded iron pipe leaning against the wall.

* * *

 _Typical_ , thought Buffy as she spotted the vampire use his body to pin the girl to the wall. _Finally decide to take a break and what do you get? Random vamps_. She stomped down on a handy wooden crate and grabbed the makeshift stake as it flipped into the air.

* * *

Grace Lee had gone out with the intent of finding the best looking, most available boy on The Bronze's dance floor and taking him home to bang silly; a just revenge at her now ex-boyfriend and the big-breasted girl she'd caught him with. Mark had definitely fulfilled all her requirements. She'd been leading him back to her apartment when he randomly commented about how tasty she looked and had suddenly dragged her into the darkness between two buildings.

She thought she felt teeth beginning to press against her neck when the two men and the blonde came running out of opposite sides of the alley. For a moment all parties involved looked at each other, nonplussed. A second later Grace was unceremoniously shoved to the ground and the brawl began.

As she crawled and then sprinted away, Grace decided that maybe the optimum way to get over her bad breakup was to go home, get into something comfortable, eat a gallon of ice cream, and forget the past few hours ever happened.

* * *

The best that could be said for the first few minutes was that they were all getting in each other's way. Dean swung his knife at the thing's neck (Was it a vampire? What was up with the _face_?) and nearly decapitated the girl; the blonde then swung around with an impressive back kick and planted a good one in Sam's stomach.

* * *

Whoever these two jokers were, they were definitely well trained and, Buffy realized with a jolt, they were the same two that she'd seen in the hospital with the Vanishing Act. However, neither carried wood and the shorter one kept going for the vampire's neck. While effective, the tactic was unnecessarily complicated and was interfering with her own attempt to hit the thing's heart. Obviously they didn't know what they were doing.

* * *

The girl was armed with a _piece of wood_ of all things, and Dean was getting perilously close to shoving her into the dumpster to get her out of the way. She was definitely well trained but she obviously didn't know what she was doing.

* * *

"Oh for–" swore Buffy. She grabbed the lapels of the one man that remained standing (the taller one was busy retching in the background) and sent him flying into a pile of garbage. The vampire swallowed as he realized the Slayer's path to him was now clear. She scoffed as the creature made a desperate lunge and rammed her crate-stake into his heart. The thing then rapidly desiccated into a pile of ash.

She looked around. The one she kicked was now leaning against the wall rubbing his abdomen. The other was scrabbling his way out of discarded beer bottles. Once that one was standing Buffy noticed they were staring not at her but at the vamp dust piled on the ground.

"What the hell?" queried Garbage Boy.

"I should be asking that!" Buffy exclaimed. "You two wanna explain to me what you were thinking?"

Dean was definitely not in the mood for this tiny (yet somehow inhumanly strong) blonde's attitude. He had escaped puncturing any of the garbage bags and releasing their foul contents but he was fairly certain his favorite jacket was now liberally coated in cheap liquor. "Look kid, you nearly got yourself killed!"

"' _Kid_ '?" she echoed incredulously. "Just who do you think you are?"

"Dean," warned Sam as his brother advanced on the girl.

"I'm the one that's gonna kick your ass for getting in the way!" the elder Winchester snarled.

Buffy was forced to crane her neck backwards as the man loomed over her. "Kick _my_ ass? Oh you'll be seeing an ass kicking tonight, only I think you're going to be the kick- _EE_ and not the kick- _ER_."

" _Dean!_ " Sam snapped, curtailing the impending melee. He walked over and pulled his brother back by the shoulder. "Dude, she vaulted you into the garbage."

The looks the two men were giving Buffy were definitely more suspicious than angry now. "What? Something weird with my face?"

"Maybe your eyes," replied tall, shaggy haired and pretty. Without warning he pulled out a flask and liberally splashed the Slayer with water.

Buffy wiped a hand down her features and glared murderously at the Winchesters. "What. The _hell_."

"Um, sorry," Sam said contritely. "Had to check."

As he screwed the cap back on, Buffy spotted the cross etched into the glass. "I'm not a _vampire_!"

The brothers exchanged baffled looks. "No," corrected Dean, "we thought you were a _demon_."

"Huh? No, never mind." Buffy pulled out her phone to send a group text. When Sam tried to interrupt, she lifted one authoritative finger in front of his face and continued her task one handed. Soon as she received the requisite replies she looked from one hunter to the other. "You're coming with me. Then you're going to explain yourselves _and_ your vanishing friend."

"Oh, screw you," snorted Dean. He turned to leave and the petite blonde grabbed his wrist and effortlessly bent him to his knees.

" _Gah!_ Fine, fine!" he shouted. " _Just let go!_ "

"Good!" Buffy proclaimed as she let her victim fall to the ground. "I'm glad we got that all straightened out."

As they followed the Slayer, Dean shook out his arm and Sam smirked. "Dude, you got beat down by a girl," he whispered.

"Shut up."


	5. Part I: Chapter 5

As they walked out of the alley, Sam attempted to broker a peace by offering their names. "I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean."

"Buffy."

"'Buffy'?" repeated Dean. " _Seriously?_ "

The young woman spun on her heel and glowered upwards. "Something funny about my name?" Sam adamantly assured her there wasn't. Dean, however, muttered something about a porn star's moniker.

Buffy's eyes widened and she quickly drew back for a punch. The overly tall one interspersed himself quickly between her and his smirking brother. "Whoa, whoa, _whoa_! Will you two quit it?"

The fuming Slayer turned back around and continuing leading them away. Once they were close to the Impala, parked inconspicuously in another alley, the two men automatically headed for the car and unlocked the doors over Buffy's objections.

"We are _not_ leaving my Baby here in the middle of your Podunk town," stated Dean.

"'Baby'?" Buffy mocked. "You call this clunky, old-fashioned death trap your ' _Baby_ '? Issues much?"

"Oh, that's it," growled the elder Winchester. Sam once again got in his way, grimacing in exasperation. He slammed his arm across his brother's chest while Buffy smugly looked on.

"We do have a good reason," Sam explained. When he was sure Dean wouldn't go for the girl again (and most likely end up in another garbage heap), he walked to the back of the car and lifted the trunk. As she approached the substantial arsenal within, the Slayer's jaw dropped.

"Oh you two definitely have a _lot_ of explaining to do," Buffy decided as she opened the back seat door and sat down. Dean grabbed a shotgun.

"You are _not_ shooting her," Sam snapped as he yanked the firearm away.

"Fine," a surly Dean declared as his brother slammed the trunk closed. "But if she turns out to be anything other than human, I'm taking the first shot."

* * *

The group that waited for Buffy at the Magic Box was noticeably sans Giles, a lack that normally implied trouble and had everyone on edge. Between being asked to meet her at the Bronze for some fun and then called suddenly to meet her at the shop, Xander, Willow, and Anya were both worried and slightly annoyed. Thus, when the Slayer finally arrived, they felt justified in venting their feelings.

"Buffy!" Xander groused. "You owe me some gas money. I think I circled around the whole town between messages."

"And you promised us fun," pouted Anya, "then you took it away. Maybe I can fondle the money again…"

"Do you know where Giles is at?" Willow asked, concern furrowing her brow.

The door's hanging bell dinged again as the Winchester brothers sauntered inside. "Well that was a great ten minutes of awkward silence," muttered Dean.

At their appearance Anya shot out of her chair. "Oh no, no, no. They're not allowed back in here. Shoo! Shoo!" she cried. The ex-demon flicked her hands at the two men as if they were stray cats.

"Lady, what is your problem?" a baffled Dean inquired. "You were weird earlier too."

"You've seen them before?" Buffy asked Anya incredulously.

"Uh, we were here this afternoon," Sam supplied. "That Rupert guy was helping us find some books."

Xander reached out and gently lowered Anya's hands (which were still making shooing gestures). "Who are these guys?"

"That's what I want to know. First they show up, get all up in my way, then they splash _holy water_ on me like I'm some kind of vampire!" Buffy whirled around to confront the two men who were standing in the middle of the shop's upper tier. "Well? You want to explain that to me? Then you can tell me why it looks like the back of your car is prepared for World War III."

Dean threw up his hands. "Only if you tell me why you can toss a full grown man twenty feet without breaking a sweat! What are you, some kind of mini She-Hulk?"

"It's because she's the Slayer," answered Giles quietly as he entered the shop. He locked the door before continuing. "And you two are hunters. Please. Sit."

Giles gestured towards empty chairs at the table and the Winchesters reluctantly took seats. Anya scooted as far as possible away from them, scowling. Politely, the Watcher made further introductions as he leaned against the register's display case. Buffy chose to stand nearby, arms crossed.

"The fact of the matter is," he said as he adjusted his glasses, "hunters are not supposed to come to a Hellmouth."

"Excuse me," Willow asked softly while raising her hand, "what's a hunter? I'm assuming they're not, you know… _people_ hunters?"

"Hunters are creature killers, Willow," replied Giles. "They handle the extermination of supernatural elements that pose a threat to human lives. And again, you two being here constitutes a dilemma."

"Wait, my turn," Sam interjected as Dean's phone began to buzz. "What's a Slayer?" The elder Winchester stood and whispered, "Probably Cass," while moving to a more isolated corner of the shop.

As the Englishman explained the origins and attributes of the Chosen One ("You mean she has _super powers_?"), Dean answered his call. "Cass, man. Where are you?"

"I am at a payphone. You told me to call first." The bad connection failed to mask the angel's irritation with the prerequisite. "I think I've found the source of the madness, but I have no way of making sure."

"Well we've been dragged downtown to the occult shop. There's a whole crowd of funny people here that I think might know something. And _don't_ ," the hunter cautioned, "come popping in here like you usually do. Just knock like a normal person."

Barely a second after Dean ended the call there was a polite rapping at the front door of the shop. As Sam began to ask Buffy's friends about their life on the Hellmouth, Giles walked over to the entrance with the elder Winchester close behind.

Castiel stood at the doorway. He looked at the bewildered Watcher and, as courteously as he could, asked, "May I enter?"

Giles cast a silent query at Dean. "It's okay," the hunter answered. "He's a friend."

The Watcher stammered an affirmative and the angel stalked in much to Buffy's astonishment. "Giles! _This_ is the guy who poofed!"

"Hello," Castiel greeted stoically. He looked at the Sunnydale natives each in turn and addressed them individually. "Slayer. Former demonic creature. Witch. Boy."

The four who were thus named began a clamor as Anya vehemently denied her past as a vengeance demon, Willow expressed general astonishment, and Xander made loud proclamations regarding his manhood. Buffy's contribution consisted of demanding who, and more importantly _what_ , this newcomer was. The Winchesters added their own noise as Dean began griping over the presence of a witch and her nasty behaviors (which sparked an argument with a deeply offended Willow) and Sam wondered about the definition of a "former demonic creature." Giles pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation and gestured for quiet.

"I apologize for my ignorance," he remarked once the others were finally hushed, "but how could you possibly know what we all are?"

"I witnessed when the first Slayer was created eons ago. I know her purpose and recognize her power. You must be a Watcher. But Dean," said Castiel as the others looked on in disbelief, "you shouldn't have heard about anything going on here."

"Blame him," replied Dean, thumbing at his brother. "He's the one who found the case."

"Actually," Giles began to explain looking both uncomfortable and angry, "blame the Watcher's Council. I've been trying to get ahold of someone all day. Normally there are psychics working around the clock to discredit anything on any media that truthfully reports on activities around a Hellmouth. It's _specifically_ so that hunters and their ilk won't interfere. Turns out when the Council came here they left the psychics under the supervision of an underling who apparently wasn't as vigilant as he was supposed to be. Of course they're _very_ sorry and they're working on fixing it but," he sighed, waving a hand at the Winchesters, "the damage has already been done."

"Wait, why?" Sam asked. "I don't get what's so important about keeping hunters away."

"Because patrolling the Hellmouth is not your job," replied Castiel. "It's hers."

Buffy flustered slightly as the entire room gave her their attention. "Well, yeah. Duh," she agreed lamely.

"Sometime during the mid-nineteenth century," Giles continued, "some hunters were brutally killed going after… well, going after _our_ sort of vampires. After discussion between the Watcher's Council and the Men of Letters it was decided that it would be best to insure that hunters were kept unaware of our world. The Men of Letters didn't want to add confusion to their work and the Watchers didn't want a hunter going after the Slayer by mistake. It was easier, to be sure, when information had to go by mail or telegraph. The Internet has made things problematic."

"Hold on," Dean interjected, "I don't get it. Why are your vamps different? That one back there just _disintegrated_. If ours did that it'd be a hell of a lot easier cleaning up afterwards."

Willow made a high-pitched, panicked inquiry about leftover bodies as Giles said, "Our vampires stem from a demon of another dimension. In fact, that is where the two groups drew the line: we would handle the interdimensional and you would handle, well, I assume ones of more earthly origin."

"Oh come on!" cried the elder Winchester. "There's no such thing as ' _another dimension_.' This is reality, not scifi."

"It's possible," Sam corrected, astonished by the revelations. "Remember ' _Supernatural_ ' the TV show, ' _Jensen_ '?"

"Don't you dare remind me of that crap, ' _Jared_ ,'" Dean snarled as he stabbed a finger at his younger brother.

Xander waved his hand to get their attention. "Can I ask-"

" _No!_ " declared the Winchesters.

"Cass," said a frustrated Dean, "how come you never told us about this whole Slayer thing?"

The angel's brow furrowed in confusion. "You never asked."

There was silence as Dean glared furiously at the seraph. Finally, he conceded. "Fair enough."

"I still don't know what _that_ is," Buffy grumbled as she jerked her chin at the man in the trench-coat and tie.

"I… was… an angel of the Lord. A leader of one of His Heavenly garrisons."

"That not a real thing," Anya stated stubbornly. "I would have heard of it if, you know, I had been a thousand year old demon."

"Anya honey," said her boyfriend as he patted her hand, "it's okay. I don't think they mind."

"If there are 'angels'," began a skeptic Buffy, "shouldn't you have been around to, you know, prevent things? Hitler? 9/11? Neon colors making a comeback?"

"I do not believe we would have been able to prevent a color," answered a bemused Castiel.

"So where are your wings?" asked a thoroughly entranced Xander. "Are they all tiny and cute like those fat babies at Valentine's Day?"

"No, I am not a _cherub_ ," the seraph replied, offended, "but we are wasting time. Sam, Dean: we should leave."

A startled Sam queried, "What? Why?"

"The Slayer must defeat this creature. You must handle Amara."

"Yeah, but we drove all the way out here. We might as well help."

The Sunnydale group looked at Giles. "I cannot deny that we're going to need some assistance."

"Against what?" asked Dean.

"Against an all powerful Hellgod named Glorificus who we know to be invulnerable and is quite possibly insane," happily explained Buffy.

"And she's a brain sucker!" Xander added enthusiastically.

The brothers stared at them, dumbfounded. "Oh."


	6. Part I: Chapter 6

"Mom?" Buffy called as she walked into her home on Rivello Drive. She hadn't expected there to be an answer at midnight, but surprisingly there was. It just wasn't the one she was hoping for.

"Who're they?" asked her sister, Dawn, from the top of the staircase. As Sam and Dean crossed the Summers threshold burdened with their duffel bags and backpacks they looked up, baffled, at the fourteen-year-old in satin sleepwear.

"Guests and _hey_!" Buffy exclaimed as she noticed what the teenager was wearing. "Those are mine!"

"You're not wearing them right now."

"You are such a brat," Buffy muttered. "Can you wake mom up?"

"Fine."

"And take off my pajamas!"

"Nope!"

"Ah, younger siblings," said Dean wistfully. "Pain in the ass, aren't they?"

"I still think we should leave," Castiel grumped from the stoop.

Sam shrugged and turned towards the angel. "Unless you know anything _right now at this moment_ that we could do to fight Amara we might as well lend a hand. Maybe if we help beat this 'Glory' they could help us."

As Castiel mulled possible Sister-of-God battle strategies, Joyce Summers started coming down the stairs. She was sleepily trying to put her arms through a robe. "Buffy? What's going on?" When the older woman spotted the three good-looking men at her front door she unconsciously wrapped herself more quickly and smoothed some stray strands of hair.

"Uh, mom," stammered her eldest daughter, "these are some… friends! And-and they need a place to stay."

"Oh?" her mother asked, one eyebrow cocked in suspicion. "They're a little too old to be in college, Buffy. What's this about?"

Buffy sighed, abandoning her attempt at subterfuge. "Mom, they're monster hunters and they're here to help with Glory. Giles said we could trust them. I figured if we were all in one place it'd be easier to coordinate… stuff." As they had no real plans, and the main reason she'd made the Winchesters come with her was to keep an eye on them, the Slayer wasn't sure what to tell her far too observant mother. "Can they sleep in the living room?"

"I suppose so," Joyce acceded. "I'm assuming that you're all, well, human?"

"Mostly," Dean replied. He thumbed towards Castiel. "He's not."

"Oh? Is he a vampire? Is that why he's standing outside? _You're welcome to come in!_ " Buffy's mother called loudly.

Taken aback at her pragmatic approach to the entire situation, the brothers were momentarily struck speechless. Castiel, however, helpfully filled in the gap. "I am an angel, Ms. Summers."

"All right then," she said. Her only reaction to this disclosure was to blink a few times. "Do you eat… normal food? I think I can cook for everyone in the morning."

"I do not," assured the angel. He turned his attention to the hunters and the Slayer. "If you insist on staying then I will go keep an eye on Glorificus for you. But _only_ for a short while."

"Thanks, Cass," said Dean. "Make sure you check in tomorrow morning." The hunter reached into his back pocket and tossed the seraph a phone.

"And don't underestimate her," added Buffy. "Trust me."

Castiel nodded and with the rustling of feathers was gone. His departure finally broke Joyce's unflappable demeanor. "Mom, you can close your mouth now."

"It's just.. well… never mind. Make yourselves at home," Joyce directed while gesturing towards the living room.

"Did he just disappear?" Dawn called from the top of the stairs. " _Cool!_ "

As her mother ushered the youngest Summers back to bed, Buffy helped Sam move the coffee table to make room for one of the brothers to sleep on the floor. Dean, holding both their duffle bags, gazed around the home in shock. "Wow."

"What?"

"Your house. It's so… normal."

"What were you expecting?"

"Trust me when I say there isn't a single hunter I know of that lives like this. Whole mom, sis, and apple pie bit."

"Are you sure your mother's okay with this?" Sam wondered. "I mean, we're grateful we don't have to stay in the motel, but we don't want to impose."

Buffy shrugged. "You guys wouldn't be the strangest guests we've had over. Anyways," she said with a sigh, "it's been a really, _really, REALLY_ long day and I'm going to get some sleep. Don't. Leave. The house. I _will_ find you and it will _not_ be pretty." After giving the two brothers a last warning glower she headed up the stairs.

"Good going, Dean," congratulated Sam as he untied his shoes and stretched out on the coach. "You made the local superhero mad at us."

"What was I supposed to think?" Dean groused. He snatched a throw pillow from under his brother's head (" _Ow_."). "Girl is two inches away from being a midget. And who kills vampires with a stick?"

"Well, they did say that there were different kinds of monsters here."

"Including Hellgod bitch. Honestly, I can't see how she's going to be much different than the other gods we've seen before." Dean grunted and wiggled about until he was comfortable. "I'm going to sleep."

"Yeah, 'night."

* * *

The brothers braced themselves for an uncomfortable breakfast, but they found that Joyce Summers' composed manner from the night before hadn't been the product of sleep induced delirium; she was honestly accepting of her eldest daughter's calling. They willingly endured Buffy's mother's polite, but probing, questions into the life of a hunter, and regaled the three Summers girls with some of their less-harrowing encounters.

"So I hang up on Bobby," Dean said, laughing, "and there's Sam standing there looking pathetic, and all he says is: 'I lost my shoe.'"

Gales of laughter rocked the Summers' dining room. Sam shook his head with a smile and took another helping of bacon.

"What happened to the rabbit's foot?" Dawn inquired. Normally the girl spent Saturdays sleeping in as late as possible, but the intrigue of handsome houseguests had her up shortly after her namesake. "I've got a math test coming up," she added abashedly.

"Burned it," Sam said with a good amount of satisfaction. "Things kinda went further downhill after that."

"Nuts."

"So Dean," said Joyce, "why don't more hunters come to Sunnydale? I mean, it would be nice if Buffy got an actual break once in a while. She might get better grades!"

"Mom!" objected Buffy.

The elder Winchester finished swallowing his last bit of pancake and shrugged. "Dunno, ma'am."

"Giles said something about a few of you getting killed," Buffy offered. "Because your monsters are different than our monsters?"

Dean looked uncomfortably at the Slayer's mother and younger sister who were, unfortunately, more fascinated than distressed. "Uh, well, for one thing, piece of wood doesn't do much to the vamps we normally see. Only way to get them is to, uh… chop their heads off."

"Ew," commented Dawn.

"Yeah," Sam responded, "and none of that bumpy face stuff we saw. 'Til the fangs show up, no real tell-tale signs of vampirism."

"Aren't they scared of crosses?" asked an astonished Buffy. "Fire? _Sunlight?_ "

"Nope," Dean replied as he slouched in his chair. "Might get a nasty sunburn."

"And crosses, nothing," continued Sam. "Only thing crosses work on are demons."

"Which demons?" Buffy asked.

"Uh…" The brothers were at a loss; the definition of "demon" seemed to mean something very different around the Hellmouth. They were saved by an enormous sigh from the Summers matriarch. "Well, I don't know about all of you but I've got plenty to do today. So," she declared as she stood and began collecting plates, "you can all use the showers and then maybe head on over to Giles' shop for this conversation. Take Dawn with you?"

While the youngest Summers looked thrilled to accompany the good-looking strangers (Sam was nervously starting to notice an increase in teenager attention), Buffy grimaced. "Fine."

The Winchester brothers stood and scanned the breakfast carnage. After a quick exchange of looks, Dean started to pile up serving platters and Sam walked over to relieve Joyce of the dishes she'd already taken.

"Oh no, I couldn't-"

"It's the least we could do," Dean interrupted. "And everything was delicious, thank you. You wash, I'll dry?" The two hunters entered the kitchen laden with dirty plates and utensils and began bickering over who would do which onerous task.

As Dean lost at rock/paper/scissors and turned on the faucet, Joyce beamed at her Slayer daughter. "You should have hunters over more often!"

* * *

Upon exiting the Impala near the Magic Box, Dean continued haranguing Dawn about her choice in music (" _Long as I'm alive there will be no One Direction in this car!_ ") and Sam pulled out his cell phone. Castiel had left check-in texts every hour on the hour starting at 5am. True to form, there was an emoticon after every sentence. The younger Winchester rolled his eyes and informed his brother what the angel had sent.

"Hellgods go _shopping_?" asked an incredulous Dean.

"Apparently."

The group entered the shop where a few normal customers were perusing the inventory. Off in one corner Giles was busy helping a young woman in an artfully tattered peasant dress pick through spell ingredients. Anya glowered at the brothers from the register.

"Is she going to look at me that way the entire time we're here?" Dean demanded as they approached the reading table towards the back. Predicting boredom, Dawn broke off from the group to look at the Magic Box's new inventory section.

"She's just nervous you guys might get all stabby on her," explained Xander. "Ex-demon and all that."

"How does that work exactly?" asked Sam as he pulled out an available chair. "I mean, here."

"Long story short," Buffy explained as she took an empty seat, "her source of power got smashed."

"Wow," Sam said, astonished. "That sounds so… easy."

Xander's eyebrows lifted in shock. " _Easy_? How do you guys do it?"

"Well, there's exorcism," clarified Sam. "Some Latin, some holy water, a cross. Sends them back to Hell."

"That's it?" Buffy replied, incredulous. "No looking for power sources or beating things silly? Why don't you think _that's_ easy?"

A long moment of uncomfortable silence passed before Dean, perched on the staircase to the restricted area, finally spoke. "Because ours take over humans. _Innocents_. And they do it by force. They call them their _meatsuits_. Most of the time the demon's wrecked the body so badly the person _dies_ when it's gone."

"Our first was a girl named Meg," Sam added. "When there was a demon in her, she fell seven stories and walked away. Minutes after the thing was exorcised, she died from her injuries."

Xander and Buffy were speechless as what the brothers were implying sank in; that every time the Winchesters eliminated their sort of demon they had to reconcile themselves with the death of an unwilling human host. "So how do you destroy the demon itself?" the Slayer asked quietly.

"Only a couple of things can really, _really_ kill them," explained Sam, "and they're not exactly easy to find. Or you can 'cure' them. Seal a demon in a devil's trap then inject it with sanctified human blood."

"So, why don't you do _that_ every time?" a confounded Xander inquired.

"Because the first time we did that Sam nearly died," Dean snapped. "The second time he had to do it to _me_."

"Oh!" exclaimed Anya happily as she came around the register, perfectly oblivious to the tension. "Another ex-demon? I knew there was something I liked about this one other than the handsome features. Tell me, what sort were you?"

As Xander sputtered objections to his girlfriend's admiration, the elder Winchester grimaced and stated, "A Knight of Hell."

"Oh," the young woman responded, bemused. In an attempt to steer the conversation towards a subject more familiar she added, "Giles was a _fyarl_ demon for a day! He broke his house."

The Watcher sighed as he approached the group. "Yes, let's all air my indiscretions. Did you say a Knight of Hell?"

"Yes," affirmed Dean, his temper spiking. "Look can we talk about this Glory thing or what?"

Upon seeing the startled expressions on the others' faces, Sam cleared his throat and clarified his brother's attitude. "It wasn't exactly an easy time in our lives."

"Remind me to tell you about the time I stabbed my boyfriend and sent him to a hell dimension for a hundred years," Buffy said sympathetically.

As the group began discussing the futility of several plans, Sam checked his phone again. It was 10:57.

"I could shoot her," Dean offered.

"The problem with that," countered Giles, "is she's proven to be invulnerable to pretty much everything."

"Anything I've thrown at her she's just shrug off," added the Slayer.

"I could shoot her a lot?"

"Probably gonna be like Superman," Xander said. "All pew pew pew!" With his fingers he pantomimed bullets ricocheting off his chest.

Dean threw up his hands as Sam checked again. 10:58. "I got nothin'. Maybe we could head back to the bunker, see if the Men of Letters have anything."

"Excellent!" exclaimed Giles. "Where is that?"

"Uh, Kansas," replied Sam distractedly. 10:59.

"All right, so a two hour flight there, two hours back, you could be back in less than a day with some materials."

"Uh-uh," denied the elder Winchester, "I don't fly."

As Buffy and Xander crowed over the big, bad hunter's aversion to airplane transportation, Sam watched his phone. 10:59 morphed into 11:00. Nothing. He listened to Dean explain that planes _fell_ and that he'd already had that experience once, thank you. 11:01. Maybe Cass had dropped the phone or pressed the wrong button (wouldn't be the first time). The discussion moved on to possible containment strategies. 11:05.

"Dean," the younger brother whispered as Anya was describing a large, underwater fish tank, "Cass missed his check-in."

"Crap." The Winchesters stood up.

"Uh, Hello?" Xander queried. "Where're you guys going?"

Worriedly, Sam explained, "Castiel? The angel from last night? He's been sending me texts every hour on the hour since dawn and he missed one. trust me, that means something's happened."

"I'm going with you," Buffy declared. "Xander, can you take Dawn home?"

Dean looked down at the diminutive blonde. "Maybe-"

"If you say one word about me being a girl I will chuck you through the store window."

"Don't do that," objected Giles. "Just open the door. Windows are expensive"

"What I was _going_ to say," the elder Winchester retorted defensively, "was maybe you should stock up on a weapon or two."

"Whatever you've got in your trunk should work fine. _No guns_. And how are we going to find him anyways?"

"GPS tracking on Dean's phone."

"Good. Let's go."


	7. Part I: Chapter 7

The creature Castiel had been following since it had left its palatial estate was puzzling. For one, its appearance was clearly a mystical fabrication. There were three overlapping visages: the vain, pretty young female with curly blonde hair, an indescribably horrific other-dimensional beast, and, strangely, the young doctor who had been caring for the mentally ill patients at the hospital. The most false was the female, but the beast and boy were _equally_ truthful. The boy appeared to be in a stupor, completely unaware of what the body was doing. The beast, however, was visibly straining against confinement as it manipulated the illusion of the young female. Its struggles were breaking her essence apart in tiny increments.

The second puzzling attribute was its obsession with frippery. The seraph tailed the thing through a series of department stores at the local mall where it purchased dresses, shoes, makeup, jewelry; all of the highest caliber and all very, _very_ expensive. Castiel doubted that the Winchesters had ever spent in a year what the woman-beast-boy carelessly splurged within a few hours.

Apparently the creature intended next to return to its home, perhaps to admire its acquisitions. It walked quickly, unimpeded by the multitude of bags or its five inch heels. Disconcerted by the enigma of the frivolous woman-beast-boy, Castiel noticed too late that the Hellgod was taking a rather circuitous route. With the crowds thinning it was becoming more and more difficult to remain inconspicuous. He took his eyes off Glorificus for a moment to search for a different vantage point. When he looked back it had disappeared.

The seraph grimaced at his mistake. There weren't many places it could have hidden. After peering about he spotted the edge of its dress disappearing down an alley across the street. Castiel immediately followed.

Again it was gone. the angel glanced about, checking both the refuse and the fire escapes, and found nothing. "I know this is a trap," he growled. "You might as well come out."

Instead of Glorificus, however, two black-eyed, scabrous vermin, dressed profanely in monkish brown robes and wielding daggers, rushed in from the street crying, "You shall not harm the most Glorious One!"

A short melee ensued. The things were more enthusiastic than skilled and Castiel easily dodged their erratic stabs and swings. One managed, by virtue of dumb luck, to stab his vessel in the back. When the angel ripped out the blade and turned around, annoyed, it gaped at him stupidly. He grasped the front of its robe and hurled it into the garbage. "Where is Glorificus?" he demanded as he advanced on the other creature.

"Right _here_ , silly!" came a mellifluous voice from behind. The seraph turned around, certain he could quickly eliminate Sam and Dean's reason for lingering in Sunnydale. Instead, he found himself punched hard enough in the chest to go smashing into the brick wall of the alley. Castiel's vessel slumped to the ground as shattered masonry tumbled onto his head.

At close range Glory's female aspect became overwhelmingly prominent. She gazed at him curiously. "Well, well! An _angel_! I haven't seen one of you in forever." Her tone turned ominous. "Mind telling me what you've been doing following me all day? I know for certain that your 'Heavenly Host' is busy cowering upstairs so there must be some _other_ reason for one of you to be down here."

When Castiel didn't answer the Hellgod reached down, grabbed him by the throat, and held him effortlessly up against the wall. His eyes widened in shock as his fingers scrabbled uselessly against her grip. "I'm really not in the mood for the silent treatment!" Glory declared. "C'mon, _play nice_ before I have to rip off the remains of your tattered little wings."

Still he remained reticent and the Hellgod narrowed her eyes. She cocked her head to one side. "Aren't you things supposed to be inside regular humans? All I see in there is you. Which means," Glorificus complained as she drew back and slammed Castiel repeatedly into the wall, "you're not even useful as a _snack_!"

Once she was done she dropped the angel, bleeding and dazed, back into the pile of fallen bricks. With a mocking grin the Hellgod said, "Watch this!" and made a quick snatching gesture in the air. Castiel gasped in pain as his wings were mystically tethered.

Glory crouched before him as he made a valiant attempt to stand. "Aw, pretty birdie got hurt? Wanna fly away? Well too bad! I've got your feathers clipped and until I get some answers, you're not going _anywhere_. Don't want you winged stuck-ups or your smokey underworld friends coming by to mess up my plans. Minions!" she called. The two creatures scuttled to her side murmuring benedictions. "Pick this thing up and bring it along."

As her most adoring followers gathered up the stupefied angel, Glorificus sauntered homeward. "On the way, make sure you pick me up someone tasty. I'm feeling peckish."

* * *

"Damn it, Cass," muttered Dean as he discovered the cell phone amidst the alley rubble. He held it up, screen cracked but still functional, for his brother and the Slayer to see.

"Glory has him," Buffy inferred.

As Dean vented his feelings by hurling the useless device down the alley, Sam asked, "Do you know where she stays?"

"No." The Slayer released a frustrated sigh. "I'm not even sure where to start looking."

"Can that witch of yours do a locator spell?"

"I suppose." Buffy watched as Dean picked up a piece of masonry splashed liberally with blood. "What are you doing?"

"Trust me," he replied. "She's going to need this."

* * *

Prior to arriving back at the Magic Box the Slayer called her mother to verify Dawn had made it home, then sent a text instructing Willow and Tara to meet them at the shop. As Giles was reluctant to close during the busiest retail day of the week, the witches, hunters, and Slayer decided to gather in the training room that had been built in the back. They left Xander at the reading table to discourage potential customers from wandering too close while Anya manned the register.

Willow was completely unnerved by the request. "Oh no, I mean I _think_ I can. I-I-I've done a demon locator spell but it kinda worked and kinda _didn't_ work–I mean, it's the first time I've met an angel not including, you know, _Angel_ , and-"

"Will," interrupted Buffy. She put her hands on her friend's shoulders and looked her in the eye. Willow stopped twisting her fingers together for a moment, her anxiety abating slightly. "Will, I _know_ you can do this. I'm confident you'll find a way to make this happen."

The panic in Willow's eyes spiked. "Oh, Buffy. I don't want to be making-this-happen person. I'd rather be, you know, anyone else?"

"Come on, Willow," encouraged Buffy. " _Think_. You can make this work."

"Do you have anything that might have, um, a portion of his essence?" Tara asked. "A-a-a hair or something?"

"Oh! _Oh! YES!_ " Willow cried, suddenly enthused. "If we can identify his aura we can reconfigure the spell to identify a specific being!"

"We found his blood around the alley," Sam said. "Dean picked up a brick that was soaked in it. I'll be right back."

As his brother rushed back to the Impala, the witches headed into the main shop area conferring with one another on the proper chants and spell ingredients. Dean stayed and prowled the room as he admired the setup. He stopped at a display of Asian weaponry and pulled down one of the _kama_. "Nice," he remarked as he gave the blade a few experimental swings.

"Most people ask before touching someone else's things," admonished Buffy.

Reluctantly, the hunter replaced the blade. "You actually know how to use all these?"

"Maybe," answered the Slayer. The ignominy of the Watcher's Council's attempt to test her abilities still stung and she had no intention of airing her ignorance to someone that was still practically a stranger.

"Huh." Dean continued along the walls, tipped the training dummy slightly with his index finger, and stopped at a rack of various sized _bokken_.

Willow poked her head through the door. "Hey, I think we've got it figured out and Sam has the icky brick. The three of us are going to borrow some of Giles' stock and do the spell out back."

Bemused, Buffy asked, "Why not just do that in here?"

"He said he didn't want us burning down the place. _Pff_." The young witch rolled her eyes at the Watcher's doubt in their ability and closed the door. When the Slayer turned back towards Dean, she discovered he'd pulled down one of the _daito bokken_ and was making slow practice swings at the dummy's head.

"Hey!" she yelled as she stalked over to the elder Winchester. "What did I just say?"

"What's with the sticks?" Dean asked, pointedly ignoring her question. "Why not use real swords?"

Annoyed, Buffy grabbed for the wooden blade and missed. "It's so no one chops off anything important. Now gimmie!"

"What're you, five?" he retorted. The significantly taller man held the implement above his head and backed up towards the _bokken_ rack. He'd intended to just replace the sword, but as soon as they were close enough the Slayer snatched a _daito_ of her own and swung for his head. Dean ducked and without another word, the sparring match began.

It was obvious from the beginning that Buffy was better trained in swordplay. Her ripostes and swings were executed with precision and speed, each movement flowing from one to another in a deadly, almost balletic, dance. More importantly, the young woman was adaptive to changes in tactic; a vital skill to have when facing the enormous variety of creatures that inhabited the area. Combined with the extraordinary strength that belied her small form, Dean was hard-pressed to defend himself.

Buffy noticed that the hunter treated the _bokken_ more like a long dagger rather than an actual sword, thrusting the blade when a slice would have been more effective. He even surprised her by flipping the blade into a reverse grip and stabbing backwards when she got behind him. The difficulty she faced was rooted in Dean's unpredictability; he moved without conventional form, as if all his instruction had been done via on-the-job improvisation. However, unlike the amateur street fighters that made up the bulk of the vampire population, the hunter was shockingly skilled and quick. Despite the lack of formal training he managed to move as if the blade was an extension of his arm.

Eventually they ended up stalking each other, circling the mats. "So how old are you really?" asked Dean. "Twelve?"

" _Twelve!_ " Outraged, Buffy dove in with a swing at his neck. "I'll be _twenty_ in a few days! How old are you, _seventy-five_?"

"Ouch," Dean replied. "I'll have you know I'm a man in his prime."

The Slayer swung, stabbed, and the hunter dodged. "Prime… Prime rib maybe."

Dean sliced downwards and Buffy rolled out of the way. "I do like my meat."

Swing, duck, stab, parry. "I bet you've never even killed anything worse than a werewolf," the young woman scoffed.

" _Werewolf_ ," snorted Dean. "Try _leviathan_. All teeth and black goop. Plus his name was Dick." He swung at her legs and she vaulted onto a balance bar, flipped over his head, and stabbed at his back. The elder Winchester dodged, barely, the tip of the Slayer's blade tearing a hole in his shirt. "Hey!"

"The Judge," Buffy countered. "Had to blow him away with a rocket launcher!"

"Killer clown!"

"Giant egg-laying brain thing!"

"Giant depressed teddy bear!"

"Seriously?"

"Wishing well. That was a weird day."

Buffy ducked under a two handed slice and brought her own blade around and down. The hunter quickly reversed his stroke and caught the _daito_ on an upswing with his own sword, one hand on the hilt and the other on the "blunt" side. They found themselves locked.

Dean's eyes widened as the girl's preternatural strength began forcing him to his knees. He attempted to adjust his footing in order to press back and slipped on the mats. The hunter's legs went shooting forward and knocked the Slayer off her feet. Reflexively he reached out and grabbed the front of her shirt, pulling Buffy down on top of him…

"Buffy, I think–oh good Lord."

…which was when Giles decided to peek in the door.

"Dean," Sam said as he walked blindly around the Watcher, "we know where–dude. Seriously?"

"Are we looking at a thing?" asked Xander as he peeped over Giles' shoulder. "I wanna– _nope_ , I no longer wanna look at the thing." He retreated back into the shop.

Morbidly embarrassed, Buffy and Dean spent the next few minutes untangling from each other. Undue haste caused the procedure to end with the two cracking heads.

"Ow," stated Buffy. She rubbed her forehead as Dean grasped his in both hands and indulged in a slew of profanities.

"O- _kay_ ," Sam finally managed. "Spell worked, we know where Cass is, and… we're going to wait for you by the car." The younger Winchester left with undue haste. This left the pair to shrink under the glower of the Watcher.

"Uh, hey!" Dean said with an uncomfortable attempt at a smile. "Accident. Fell," he explained while pointing awkwardly at the mats.

"Totally _not_ what it looked like," Buffy added.

Giles' only reaction to the clarification was to adjust his spectacles. He gave the hunter another piercing glare before silently returning to his shop.

A moment of quiet ensued.

"Ah, so!" began the elder Winchester.

"Uh-huh," Buffy replied.

"We should… probably go."

"Right."

"After you."

"Going!" called the Slayer as she rapidly headed for the door.

"Yep," the hunter commented as he followed.

* * *

 **Author's note** : The Japanese weapons being used are on the walls of the Magic Box training room in nearly every photo I could find online. Weirdly enough, I can't remember if they ever really got used. Some brief descriptions:

 _Kama_ : A small, short handled, curved blade that was originally used as a farming implement. Think of a scythe but not nearly so circular.

 _Daito Bokken_ : _Bokken_ are _katanas_ (swords) of various lengths. The ones being used by Buffy and Dean, _daito_ , are the full length versions.


	8. Part I: Chapter 8

By the time Dean and Buffy made it outside and the last customer had been ushered out of the store it was late afternoon. The elder Winchester looked at his phone and lamented the amount of time that had passed. He was fairly certain that Glorificus had no need, no desire to kill his friend, but her infamous mental instability had him worried. The worry was _nearly_ enough to overwhelm the mortification he was still dealing with.

It wasn't so much the incident itself (the damn mat wasn't made for logger boots); it was the fact that both of them had lingered a moment too long in that position, or at least _he'd_ felt, momentarily, no desire to move. The feeling warred with both the connection Dean felt with the Darkness (something that he had yet to sort out), and the slight repugnance he had with their spread in age. Sure, he'd flirted and pretended to be interested in the coeds at The Bronze, but beyond their good looks there was nothing that was truly appealing. In fact, he found most of them more vapid than anything else. Buffy, however, had both a pretty face and an intriguing level of hardness behind her eyes that belied her youth… even if she did cover it up with an attitude. The hunter wondered what sort of things she'd had to endure in the short time since she'd become the Slayer.

"I called Spike," the girl in question was saying as they all stood in front of the Magic Box. "He's going to use the sewers to meet us there."

"What is he, a Ninja Turtle?" Dean asked, glad for the distraction.

With a disparaging glower, Buffy replied, "He's a vampire."

Disgusted, Sam wondered, "Why are we calling on a _vampire_?"

"Because he's strong and we can… well, we can't _really_ trust him since he is kinda evil and repulsive and… Look, do you wanna save your friend or not?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then we're going to need all the help we can get. So no staking him," instructed Buffy as she jabbed the younger Winchester on the sternum.

"Ow."

"Also, he's kinda neutered," Xander quipped.

Dean lifted his eyebrows. "He's a _eunuch_?"

"Got a chip put into his brain by a government organization called the Initiative," explained Willow. "Can't hurt anything human without feeling like someone's getting all stabby in his brain."

"Thinking about staking him sort of feels like kicking a guy after he's fallen off a roof," Xander added.

"Hey, I got no qualms about stabbing a dickhead when he's down," Dean offered.

Buffy sighed in exasperation as Giles pulled up in his BMW. "Look, I'll draw a map to his crypt and even lend you a stake but not until _after_ we've rescued your friend. Will, where we headed?"

"A construction site near all the fancy houses up on the hills."

"Weekend, so there shouldn't be anyone there," Xander extrapolated.

"Good," Buffy said. "Xander, Anya: you go with these guys in their car. Will, Tara, and I will go with Giles."

"What's the plan?" asked Sam.

"We'll park a block away, try not to signal Glory we're coming. When we get there, Giles will go with Anya and Xander: concentrate on getting Castiel free. Will, Tara: make sure if she's got any magical whatevers you take care of them. If she doesn't, see about containment."

"And the rest of us?"

The Slayer looked from one hunter to the other. "We get to distract Glory."

* * *

They hadn't traveled a full mile before the writhing of the beast tore enough of the young woman's essence to cripple her sanity. The signs began as short ramblings; frustrated commentary regarding her exile into this dull, drab dimension and angry mutters about a stolen key. Then the visage of the young woman began to grip and pull out handfuls of her formerly well-groomed hair while the utterances became louder and more disjointed. The two minions started glancing worriedly at one another over Castiel's bent head. When she gave a strangled scream and stumbled sideways into a wall, toppling an entire section of particle board, one creature rushed to her side while the other shouldered the angel's weight.

They entered the newly made opening and hurried their burdens towards the skeleton of a business complex. Castiel, still working on putting the fragments of his spine back together, watched as Glorificus was gently deposited onto a neat stack of 2x4s before he was unceremoniously dumped into the dirt. The woman-visage sweated and babbled to herself, breathing raggedly.

The sudden illumination of their resting point signified the approach of the construction site's security guard. " _Hey_!" he shouted angrily, pulling out his baton. "You're not supposed to be in here!"

Castiel drew breath to warn the man away, but Glory's two worshippers were too quick. One divested the guard of his baton and the other incapacitated him with a punch to the stomach. He was then dragged, gasping for air, to the foot of the Hellgod.

"Eat, most magnificent one," one creature pleaded. The prostrate woman reached forward with shaking hands and her fingers entered the security guard's skull. Their combined screams echoed as a bright light enveloped them. Castiel's celestial senses perceived that the act was far more spiritual than physical in its violence. Tendrils of otherworldly substance ripped pieces from the man's soul and returned those fragments to Glory's broken essence. The tears sealed shut and the creature inside withdrew and huddled, quiescent, but still strained by its container's smallness. A gut-wrenching kaleidoscope of visceral colors momentarily swirled around the woman-beast-boy and the angel beheld pieces of souls from previous victims. Then the display was over and the Hellgod was once again temporarily whole.

Glory let out a sigh of contentment and shoved the remains of her meal out of the way. "Much better," she proclaimed as she stretched her arms up in a parody of human languor.

The guard stumbled to his feet, sickly and pale. He looked off into the distance. "The rats," he mumbled, "they carry _devices_. They need to keep to the line or they'll be _lost_ …" Castiel's gaze followed the man as he wandered off through the gap in the fence. His head was then wrenched back into position by a well-manicured hand.

"Hey there, handsome," mocked the Hellgod. "We ready to talk yet? Or am I going to have to get creative with your soft and squishy bits?"

"I am here on my own," tried the seraph. The less this creature knew about the hunters and their association with the Slayer the better. "For no particular reason."

"See, I know you're lying," she countered. "For one, you suck at it. And _two_ , there's no way that you being here and my Key being here is just a coincidence. What I think," pondered Glorificus as she reached into Castiel's coat, "is either you know where my Key is or you're here to protect that Slayer who's hiding it from me."

Castiel's spinal cord was knitted just enough to work his arm. Once he figured out what she was reaching for he grasped the Hellgod's wrist and pulled. Glory responded by contemptuously breaking the offending fingers and backhanding the angel hard enough to crack his jaw. As his eyes readjusted from the impact, Castiel made out the shine of heavenly-forged steel.

"Ooh, pretty!" Glorificus crowed as she turned his angel blade slowly back and forth. "See, I know that right now at this moment, those fingers of yours are already healed up. But I know that _this_ is actually going to hurt."

Her minions hauled Castiel to his feet. "So tell me, my fine feathered friend, where is my Key?"

* * *

After several blocks of tense, silent travel, Giles finally said what Buffy had been waiting for. "You realize he's much older than you are."

"Giles. He fell. I fell. Your timing sucks."

"Yes, well, perhaps it was fortuitous that I arrived at that moment. Buffy, hunters tend to always be on the move. No home, rarely have families, and most of them… well, most of them die young."

For a few moments Buffy entertained a fantasy where she was sitting in the passenger's seat of the Impala, Sam in the back sleeping and Dean driving, rolling down a dark highway on the way to rescue someone from something or other. The freedom implied by Giles' bare bones description of their lives was greatly appealing. How often had she desired that she was free of the obligations of the Chosen One, the Slayer, _she who is destined to stand alone against the forces of darkness_? How many times had she prayed for a normal, sedentary life of friends, shopping, and generally being just a girl? Not that it sounded like the Winchesters' life was "normal," it just seemed as if they were at liberty to choose their obligations rather than have them dumped on their lap because of fate.

The young woman also had to admit that both brothers were easy on the eyes. Something, however, drew her more to Dean than to Sam… at least when he wasn't acting like some temperamental man-child. There had been… _thoughts_ … during the minute or so that they had been stuck to the floor.

"Buffy…"

Maybe she was just feeling vulnerable. After all, Riley's (apparently predetermined) departure had occurred relatively recently and still made her heart ache. Come to think of it, her relationships since coming to Sunnydale had so far been less than spectacular. There was her I-am-a-stupid-freshman night with Parker, a few weeks dating Scott I-am-friends-with-a-woman-beating-monster in high school, and before (and after) that her long affair with a _vampire_ , albeit one cursed with a soul.

"Buffy?"

Age difference? What age difference? The love of her life had been at least _two hundred years_ older than she was. So what if the Winchesters were inevitably going to leave? That's what Facebook and Skype were for, not to mention emails and text messages.

"Buffy!"

"Texting!"

Giles blinked at her. "What?"

Buffy blinked back. "What?"

Her Watcher removed his glasses with a look in his eyes that said he knew _exactly_ why she hadn't been paying attention. He placed them carefully into his pocket. "We're here."

"Ah." As rapidly as possible, Buffy opened the door and exited. Giles followed suit wearing an expression of both determination and exasperation. In the back seat, Willow and Tara glanced at each other and then out the window.

"I-I think they forgot we were in here," said Tara.

The BMW's locks clicked and the alarm beeped. Willow sighed. "Yep."

"Buffy!" exclaimed Giles as he grabbed his Slayer's arm. "Did you hear what I said about the boy?"

"Yes! Good grief, you're acting like we got engaged last night or something."

The older man sighed as he released her arm. "Look, I understand he's appealing. The danger, the rugged good looks…"

"Are you sure _you_ don't want to get engaged to him?"

"I just don't want to see you hurt."

Buffy's irritable demeanor softened. "Giles, I know. It just… crossed my mind for a second, you know? How it would be like to have someone who already knows the type of things I've been through instead of having to keep secrets or, you know, worrying that they might suddenly go evil."

Burning tobacco hit their noses. The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon and it was just dark enough for a vampire to be out and about without being immolated. Spike, dressed in his usual blacks and pilfered long leather coat, his hair its regular unnatural shade of peroxide blonde, ground a cheap cigarette under a steel-tipped boot and asked, "Why're we bringin' Mr. Broody-Pants into a conversation? You left something in your car, mate." He pointed and Tara and Willow waved cheerfully from the back seat.

"Oh good Lord," cursed Giles as he repeatedly pressed the unlock button on his keys. When it refused to work he continued trying while walking back to the BMW. Behind his vehicle, the Impala's occupants were exiting. Sam was eyeing Spike, clearly hostile even from a distance, while Dean opened the trunk.

"Nice car," commented the vampire in his street London accent. "And what's with the Hardy boys?" Suddenly he froze, his eyes narrowing. "Oh, bloody hell, you brought _hunters_? _HERE?_ "

Buffy threw up her hands. "Did everyone know about these people except for me?"

"'Course I know about hunters. How could I have survived this _bloody_ long without knowing about hunters?" Spike reached into his coat and began lighting up another cigarette. "Back in jolly old London they called themselves huntsmen. Annoying buggers. Didn't even recognize a proper vampire until I took their heads off."

Sam walked up just in time to hear the final part of Spike's explanation. "This the vamp?" he inquired suspiciously.

"Yep, this is Spike."

"Buffy here says you can't hurt humans."

"Oh for-" the vampire loomed over the diminutive Slayer. "You need to tell _everybody_ about the bloody thing?"

"Prove it."

"Sod off," Spike snarled while flicking the remains of his tobacco at Sam's chest. In response, the younger Winchester punched him in the nose. The vampire reflexively retaliated in kind, hitting hard enough to knock his assailant to the ground, before swearing loudly and clutching his head.

"Sammy…?" called Dean. He stalked over, shotgun in hand.

"I'm fine, it's my fault," his brother said as he picked himself up off the cement.

"What's with the Billy Idol wannabe?"'

"What's with the bleeding _giant_ punching me in the nose?" Spike demanded, still dizzy from chip-induced pain.

The elder Winchester looked at Buffy. "Good grief, how much Eurotrash you got in this town?"

Offended, the vampire asked, "These hunters of yours, you pick them up from the local trailer park? I thought you were over dating tall and stupid."

This time Buffy clobbered him. As Spike bent over and uttered a series of vulgar colloquialisms, the Slayer asked, "Everyone ready?"

"Gave the kid and his weirdo girlfriend some knives," replied a thoroughly entertained Dean. "Witches got their witchy stuff and the old dude grabbed a machete. Think we're good to go unless bleach blonde here needs anything."

" _No shotguns!_ And he'll be fine. He's got-"

Buffy's explanation was cut short by a quickly stifled scream. The way the Winchesters tensed told her that the voice definitely belonged to their angelic friend. As the remainder of the group gathered, their faces showing various degrees of worry and fear, she pressed her lips together in determination.

"Let's go."


	9. Part I: Chapter 9

As a tool of Heavenly war, the angel blade can be used to strike a fatal blow to both Heaven and Hell's most powerful denizens. Demons, angels, and even _archangels_ can be killed if fatally wounded by these elegant stilettos. It can be wielded for attack or defense, just as any other blade, and some have expanded its versatility. The King of Hell, for example, melted one down to create bullets, cashing in on the modern age's perfection of the semiautomatic handgun. He also discovered that the blade was an exquisite instrument of seraphic torture. For days he'd played a delightful tune on the lower-level angel, Samandriel.

Glory used it on Castiel and made a _symphony_.

The Hellgod's minions had found a treasure of binding materials across the construction site. In a few minutes they had managed to dangle Castiel from a hook and chain with duct tape and rope, and weigh his ankles down with a great load of netted bricks. To facilitate their magnificent god's intentions the two tore off his coat, shirt, and tie, then stood back to observe the Most Glorious One's handiwork.

While others needed sigils or holy oil to bind an angel, the Hellgod made do with brute force. Any attempt Castiel made to access his powers was brutally punished. "No, no, no!" admonished Glorificus. "I felt that!" One swing of her deceptively nubile arm added a slice to the angel's chest. He gritted his teeth and swallowed a yell. "I still have your feathers, pretty birdie, and until you tell me what I want to know, you're going stay here and _bleed_."

The Hellgod was frighteningly knowledgeable regarding the location of pain receptors bundled on the human body. She also knew just how far to go to inflict agony and yet deny death. She slid the point into the skin on top of Castiel's stomach. "All I want is my _Key_!" she ranted as she walked around the angel, the blade tracing a bright line along the seraph's ribs. "I don't understand why all of you need to hide it. I mean, I don't go knocking around upstairs stealing things that don't belong to _me_."

Glory stopped the blade on a backside rib and exuberantly bore a small hole. Castiel was unable to stifle his scream. The Hellgod put an end to the noise by clamping her hand on his mouth. She placed her head on his shoulder and continued digging. "Are we ready to tell me where the Slayer stashed my Key?"

* * *

As soon as the rescue party stealthily arrived at the Hellgod-made opening in the construction wall, Sam glanced inside and withdrew quickly. "She doesn't have him in an angel trap. How is she holding him?"

The witches conferred quietly with one another. "There's a binding spell from Glory to Castiel," whispered Willow. "Tara and I will go around back and figure out how to break it."

The younger Winchester nodded in affirmation and the two women snuck off. Dean then took his turn assessing the situation. "Damnit, she has his blade. She sticks that in him he's dead."

"Then we need to get that out of her hands," Buffy surmised. "Any ideas?"

"Ask politely?" Xander quipped.

"I got one." From behind his back Dean pulled out a Colt .45.

"Hey!" Buffy whispered angrily. "I said no guns!"

"No, you said no _shotguns_."

The Slayer glared.

* * *

Glory plucked the stiletto out of Castiel's rib, eliciting a short outcry, and strolled around his body to look into his eyes. "Well?"

Through a haze of pain, the angel managed to utter, "I… don't… know."

"Ugh!" The Hellgod paced back and forth, apparently deep in thought. Dean watched as she faced the opening in the wall then swiveled back around, one hand tapping the angel blade on her shoulder while the other hand sat on her hip. The hunter edged out as far as he dared and took careful aim.

"You know what?" Glorificus wondered. "I think you might actually be telling me the truth!" She spread her arms outwards happily. "Which means, I think our fun might be– _hey_!"

The bullet ricocheted off the Hellgod's fingers and the impact flung the blade out of her hands. She turned towards the source. Her eyebrows lifted as the elder Winchester took several steps out into the open and emptied the clip at her heart.

Both hunter and Hellgod stared at the neat cluster of holes that marred Glory's designer cocktail dress. Dean, baffled, took a moment to examine his gun for flaws. When he looked up, she was suddenly an arm's length away.

Glorificus grabbed the hunter's shirtfront and yanked him forward so they were nose to nose. "That was Louis Vuitton," she complained before uppercutting Dean hard enough to send him flying.

The elder Winchester landed, skidded, and stopped at Buffy's feet. "Now that wasn't very nice," she admonished.

At the appearance of the Slayer, Glory's vermin pulled out their daggers, let loose brave shouts, and attacked. She met them with a punch and a roundhouse kick as Sam circled around and stalked the Hellgod, machete in hand.

"My, aren't _you_ just a tall, tasty thing," admired Glorificus as she kept pace with the younger Winchester. His aim was to direct her backside to the fence where the remainder of the group huddled just out of sight. Once it was accomplished, Sam lifted his arms up and threw his blade two-handed. The Hellgod gleefully caught the machete between her palms. The distraction was enough to allow Giles, Anya, and Xander to rapidly creep into the construction site. They skirted around the girders to approach Castiel's limp and bleeding form.

Sam glanced at Dean, who was still unconscious. Glory sneered as she broke the machete in half and tossed the pieces away. "Aww, is that your friend?"

"My _brother_ ," Sam snarled.

"That's so sweet! You two regularly go out and do stupid things together?"

The hunter looked around, quickly trying to strategize. Up on the unfinished third floor Sam saw what he needed. Seeing that her opponent's expression had changed from wary to hopeful, Glory started charging forward. She was arrested by Spike, face distorted into its demonic state, who had leapt recklessly onto the Hellgod's back with an inhuman roar. A normal opponent would have been incapacitated or killed by the vampire's chokehold; Glory, however, merely twisted about shrieking imprecations as Spike held on for dear life.

" _Go_ already!" the vampire shouted. Sam shot for the ladder leading upwards. Upon seeing that Buffy had dispatched the second minion with a punch to the side of its head, he called for her assistance.

As Spike yelled " _Ride 'em cowboy!_ " in a bad Texan accent, Giles and Xander frantically continued sawing away at the rope and duct tape around Castiel's wrists. Anya worked at the binding on his ankles. A short distance away, Willow and Tara had positioned themselves sitting cross-legged in the dirt and facing one another. Their eyes were closed and they were deep in the process of chanting.

Suddenly, the witches clapped and called, " _Vincula angeli!_ " A loud report cracked the air as Castiel's mystical and physical bonds burst apart.

The pair was blown backward by the force of their spell. "I think we overdid it," Willow groaned.

Surprised, Giles and Anya skipped back. Xander, however, toppled backwards and ended up with a lap full of wounded angel. "Oh man," he gasped, dismayed. "He does not look good."

"Hey!" Glory called as she finally tore Spike off her back and hurled him into the side of a cement truck. "That's _mine_!" Fearfully, Xander and Giles each grabbed one of the unconscious seraph's arms and tried to quickly prop him up on their shoulders.

The Hellgod took two angry steps towards the group and, with a terrific clanging cacophony, was buried under a large mound of spare girders, 2x4s, and brick. From the third floor Sam and Buffy peeped downwards. "Awesome," the hunter said satisfactorily.

"Go Slayer strength," added Buffy. She then shouted, "Everyone okay?"

"Yes," responded Giles. "Do hurry. I don't think that will keep her down for long." As he spoke, the pile shook and a brick tumbled down.

Buffy jumped straight down from her perch to help shoulder a shaky Willow (Anya was unsuccessfully trying to carry both witches) while Spike indignantly asked if anyone even cared he was okay. When no one was looking, he pocketed the angel blade and muttered about souvenirs.

Sam took the more conventional route by sliding down the ladders. He picked his brother up off the ground as Dean moaned something unintelligible.

"Dude," said Sam with a smirk, "you got beat by a girl. _Again_."

"Shaddup," slurred the elder Winchester.

At the cars, Castiel was dragged into the back seat of the Impala while Dean was propped up in the front passenger's side. Over his brother's weak objections, Sam appropriated the keys. Buffy slid to the middle of the front bench seat while the remainder of the group stuffed themselves into Giles' BMW, vampire included.

As they peeled away from the construction site, Glorificus exploded out from underneath the pile of material, indescribably filthy and apoplectic with rage. She looked about and realized the only remaining living beings around were her two verminous followers. They knelt before their god bearing a variety of cuts and bruises.

"Most Glorious One, they were too many!"

"We could not possibly prevail over the strength of the Slayer!"

"Only a great god such as yourself could have defeated them!"

The Hellgod stood silent, waiting until the placations had shrunk down into simple pleads. Then she smiled.

And their screams began.


	10. Part I: Chapter 10

Though Buffy insisted that they head for the hospital, Sam adamantly refused. He was fairly certain his brother had a cracked jaw, but he also knew Dean would raise all kinds of hell if he woke up with his mouth wired shut. Since Buffy wasn't the one who would have to liquefy the hamburgers Sam thought it best to wait for Castiel and his innate healing abilities.

Buffy drew silent, pondering. If the angel was capable of such things, could he heal her mother…?

She was jolted from her speculation when a sudden right turn caused Dean's slouching form to lean against her side. He lay his head on her shoulder and deliriously muttered, "You smell nicer than usual."

Perturbed that the hunter might think her hygiene was questionable, Buffy didn't bother to respond. Then he mumbled, "Sammy? Why're you so skinny and soft?"

Buffy choked back a laugh. "I think he has a concussion."

Startled by the obviously feminine voice (that in no way could have belonged to his brother), Dean lurched into an upwards sitting position then grasped his head in both hands. "Ugh, that thing hits like a Mack truck."

Sam sighed. "She took _every single bullet_ and was annoyed you messed up her dress."

"An _ugly_ dress," proclaimed Buffy.

A moan came from the back seat. Dean immediately turned around. "Cass? You okay?"

The angel slowly pushed himself up. Dried blood crackled on his chest and arms. "I need some more time to regenerate. Then I should be all right."

"Yeah? How long?"

"A few hours of rest."

"That's it?" asked Buffy surprised.

"If it were any other weapon I would have already been whole." He looked ruefully at the wounds around his body. "She… It… was incredibly thorough."

"Well, we should be at Giles' in a few. I'm sure he won't mind lending you a shirt while we're there."

"That will not be necessary," the seraph said, "but I do have a question, Slayer. The Hellgod kept asking about a Key. It is obsessed with this thing and believes you have it hidden. Do you know where it is? I fear you will continue to be in danger for as long as she clings to this assumption."

Buffy now had a dilemma. Only two others so far knew the truth of the Key: her mother and Giles. Could she trust them? _Really_ trust them? It wasn't as if they would go blabbing to Glory about the truth. Plus they could handle themselves, and having a literal angel watching over the Key couldn't hurt.

Buffy let loose a shuddering sigh. She'd been bearing this burden practically alone for far too long. Even as she made the decision, some of the tension lifted from her shoulders. "I need to tell you something about my sister…"

* * *

When they arrived at Giles' flat, the Watcher generously allowed Castiel to use his shower and had him rest on his bed. The rest of them spread about the living room where Dean was bullied into taking some Tylenol for the headache and the growing pain in his jaw. Willow and Tara picked a clear spot on the floor where they leaned on each other sleepily. To Giles' annoyance, Spike started rummaging through his refrigerator. "I'm _quite_ certain there's nothing in there that would appeal to you."

"Pickles, chutney, and mustard," catalogued the vampire, "and not a drop of blood to be seen."

"Yes, well, it was never my intention to stock my refrigerator to meet your needs."

"Bollocks." Spike closed the door and looked wistfully up at the bedroom. "I wonder…"

"You take one move towards those stairs and I will stake you right now," said Buffy as she approached the two Englishmen.

"Just thinkin' about it. You know, you eat chocolate ice cream all your life and suddenly someone hands you a vanilla…"

"Spike, do you really need to be here?"

The vampire shrugged. "Guess not, since Rupert's so stingy. It was fun; hope Glory doesn't smash the lot of you anytime soon."

As Spike left the apartment, the Slayer looked over to the others. They had begun regaling each other with overinflated versions of their feats during the fight and the lies were becoming more and more ludicrous as the conversation went on. The group cheered or jeered depending on how inventive the speaker was. While Xander was describing his Herculean strength and carrying Castiel away wailing like an itty bitty baby (from upstairs, the angel called out, " _I_ am _a celestial being. I can hear you_ "), Buffy quietly said, "Giles, I told them about Dawn."

The older man took his glasses off, gave them a quick polish, and put them back on. "I suppose you swore them to secrecy?"

"Yes. Apparently having a sibling in imminent danger is a Winchester tradition. I was hoping they could help watch over her."

The Watcher sighed. "Buffy, I don't think they'll be staying much longer. It's my impression that they have this Amara to take care of as well."

"I know. I'm thinking that maybe Castiel could at least use his angel-vision or whatever to keep an eye on her. That's what angels do, right? Watch over things? And sit on clouds and pluck guitars?"

"Harps, and I honestly have no idea. I always assumed they were a myth; I couldn't fathom what sort of abilities they may have. It couldn't hurt to ask."

"Yeah. I guess we should all head home. Mom's been texting me all night asking how everyone is doing. Actually," she said as she glanced at her phone, "she's just been asking about _Castiel_. Something tells me mom might have an angel-crush."

* * *

The group separated soon after with the Winchesters heading for Buffy's and the others heading to their respective homes. Two hours later, as he was enjoying a cognac and a book on ancient prophesies, Giles was dumbfounded to see a completely healthy Castiel coming down the stairs. "Good Lord, are you _certain_ you're all right?"

"Yes, thank you." The angel was once again dressed back in his tie and trenchcoat. With great effort the Watcher forwent asking where the clothing had come from. "I will need to retrieve my blade," he continued. "I believe the vampire has it."

"Yes, well, please don't be gentle getting it back."

"I must also tell you something important. Glorificus is sharing its form with the young doctor who cares for the mental patients. I believe his name is Dr. Wilkinson."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yes. You should find him and seek what he knows."

"Find who?"

Castiel's brow furrowed in confusion. "The doctor."

"Which doctor are you talking about?"

"Something very strange is going on here."

Giles adjusted his glasses. "Perhaps if you could tell me if you saw or heard anything significant when you were with Glory."

"I just told you: the Hellgod shares its form with a young doctor."

"What? Are you sure?"

The angel blinked. "This is very frustrating."

* * *

After finally giving up on Giles (it appeared some spell was preventing humans from comprehending Glorificus' transformations), Castiel flew to the graveyard. He found the vampire busy discovering how well the point of a Heavenly weapon could be used to write obscenities on the back of a tombstone.

Spike stubbornly refused to return it. "Finders, keepers, mate."

Immediately after he spoke, the hand of the owner of said tombstone burst out of the dirt. When the newly risen vampire fully emerged and stood up, Castiel reached out, grabbed his head, and proceeded to incinerate the creature from the inside out. He then turned his gaze at Spike who hurriedly placed the stiletto onto the top of the granite and backed away. "Yeah, all right. I was done with it anyways."

Castiel then headed for the Summers' home and healed Dean's jaw, a procedure which Buffy observed with great interest. The Winchesters were cozily settled into the living room again while Joyce and Dawn plied them with hot chocolate. While Dean asked if they could possibly make their drinks Irish, Buffy drew the angel aside into the dining room.

"I don't know if you're able, but would you be able to look in on Dawn every once in a while? If-If you have that kind of power."

Castiel knew the request was coming after Buffy had told them about her sister's true nature. Even now he could see that the young girl was false; that her form was, in truth, incandescent green tendrils of power skillfully woven into flesh and blood. "I will try. I do not have the resources I once had, but I will try." He moved to rejoin the others and paused when the Slayer suddenly gripped his arm.

She drew in a shuddering breath, afraid she was asking too much. "Can you also please look at my mom? Just double check that the surgery went as good as they said?"

"I can heal the wound on her skull."

"Good! That's good! But what about her brain?"

"I will see."

They returned to the living room just as Sam was preventing Dawn from pouring Bailey's into her own cup. "Ms. Summers," said Castiel, "if you will allow me, I will repair your head wound."

"Oh, yes please! It would be wonderful not to have to wear these scarves all the time."

The angel touched the woman's skull and repaired bone, skin, and hair. He could see the area where the tumor had been removed and the few cancerous cells that were still present. Those he swept away. What Castiel couldn't immediately fix were the weakened blood vessels. A human body simply had too many to be able to do all at once. He shored up as many as he could and told himself he would return to finish her healing once Amara was handled.

The entire process, healing and decision making, took only a moment. Then the entire room congratulated Joyce on her "angelic plastic surgery" and made a hot chocolate toast. As the others jokingly offered hair care advice (the Summers matriarch was very admiring of Sam's high volume coif), the seraph quietly told Buffy, "I did what I could. I do not have time to do more."

Panic crossed her face for a moment before she schooled it back to normalcy. "What? What do you mean? It's okay now, right? You fixed everything?"

"Your mother has endured a very substantial amount of head trauma. There are things in there it will take time to repair, time that I do not have. I promise to return to finish what I have started as soon as I can."

"B-but you just _can't_ …"

Castiel's face hardened and for the first time Buffy had a glimpse of the immensely powerful and ancient being that lay inside the human shell. She shrunk a little under his glare. "I _cannot_ be everywhere at once," he admonished harshly, "and the god that you battle pales in comparison to the one that we must return to face. _I have given my word_."

The Slayer swallowed. "Thank you."

He nodded and looked over to the Winchesters. The angel heard their laughter and his expression softened. The hunters' lifestyle made moments of carefree happiness rare and Castiel didn't think another one was coming anytime soon. It was imperative that they continue the search for Amara's weaknesses, but another day or two wouldn't make a difference. "Please tell Sam and Dean that I will see them soon." With the fluttering of wings, he was gone.

Buffy turned as the others were trying to convince Sam to wear his hair in pigtails. Dawn was offering to do one side while Dean was offering to do the other. Joyce was reflecting on how cute her two daughters looked when they wore the hairstyle.

"Buffy," pleaded Sam, "please tell everyone how ridiculous I'd look."

"It'd be even better with _ribbons_!" Dawn added excitedly.

"You'd be missing out," said Buffy as she sat on a recliner. "Dawn and I became ponytail masters."

"Yeah, except the one time you tried to get fancy and made my hair into a giant knot."

Aside to Sam, their mother said, "They tried to hide it by cutting it out and hoping I wouldn't notice."

Except really they hadn't. That memory of being eleven years old and sitting on the living room floor snipping her seven year old sister's hair was a fabrication. Everyone in the room, except for Dawn herself, knew what the monks had done to insure that the Slayer would protect the Key. Yet whenever Buffy tried to deny their familial bond as a lie something in her rejected the idea as ludicrous. There sitting before her wasn't a ball of energy, but a _living, breathing person_ who could walk, talk, and be as irritating as only a little sister could. Whatever she had been before, Dawn was now her family and there was _nothing_ she wouldn't do to keep her from Glory's hands.

But that was for tomorrow. Tonight was for alcoholic chocolate and reliving embarrassing memories. As Dean poured a shot of Bailey's into her cup, Buffy gladly described the ugly aftermath of the Great Scissors Disaster and enjoyed a night of unfettered camaraderie.

* * *

Late the next morning, the brothers packed their belongings into the Impala and made their farewells. As Buffy approached, Dean sat in the driver's side and shut the door. "Hey, you sure you don't want us sticking around to help you guys with this one?" he asked while leaning on the open window. "Could look more into our archives, see if we can dig anything up."

Buffy considered for a moment, then smiled and shrugged. "Nah. You go do your apocalypse and we'll do ours."

Sam leaned over. "But you will call us, okay? If it turns out, you know, you need us."

The Slayer waved her cell phone in the air. "Got your numbers. All three hundred and seventeen of them."

For a long moment, Dean and Buffy looked into each other's eyes. They allowed themselves to consider the infatuation they'd had for one another following their impromptu sparring session. When they realized how similar their thoughts were running, Dean cleared his throat and looked away and Buffy pretended to scout the weather. The elder Winchester started when he saw the knowing glower on his brother's face. "What?"

"Never mind," Sam replied. Then the brothers were calling their goodbyes to the two other Summers (who were standing on the stoop) and the Impala's engine roared away.

Wistfully, Buffy stared after the quickly disappearing car, realizing that she would miss the both of them. Then she turned around and went back inside the house.

They still had a god to defeat.

* * *

 ** _END PART I_**

* * *

Thanks for reading so far! This is where I originally intended to end this story, but then got some inspiration to keep going. The next section will jump ahead to events after BtVS 5.18 and SPN 11.17 but will focus primarily on the Buffy side of things. More Glory, more conflict, more good times!

Reviews are always helpful. If you're a fellow writer then you know just how awesome a pat on the back can be. I'm also always open to critique - so far had several people help me out with plot holes and such. So if you've got the time, leave a bit of a note :)


	11. Part II: Chapter 11

_Snippets…_

 **It's blood, Summers blood, it's just like mine. It doesn't matter where you came from, or how you got here, you are my sister. There's no way you could annoy me so much if you weren't.**

 _You're so overcome by guilt that you can't stand to lose Dean again and he could never lose you. And so instead of choosing the world you choose each other, no matter how many innocent people die._

 **Mom? What are you doing? Mom?**

 **Mom?**

 **…Mommy?**

 _Last words?_

 _Can you really beat her?_

 _I can._

 _Then yes._

 **Death is your gift.**

 **Okay, no. Death is not a gift. My mother just died. I know this. If I have to kill demons because it makes the world a better place, then I kill demons, but it's not a gift to anybody.**

 _No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets, you gotta keep grinding. And that's how we're gonna win. And we're gonna win. We're gonna save Cas, we're gonna ice the Devil and we're gonna shank the Darkness. And anyone that gets in our way? Well, God help them._

* * *

… _Several weeks later_ …

Buffy was in her mother's closet poring over which possessions would be donated and which would be kept when she heard it: the roar of a 1967 Chevrolet Impala coming to rest in her driveway. She had never called the Winchesters to tell them of her mother's passing. Every time she'd picked up the phone, fury had filled her. _Castiel had never returned_ , breaking his promise and eroding her trust, and by association the two brothers were complicit in her mother's death. Grief made the twisted logic seem plausible and had her stomping down the stairs to answer the door.

The Slayer wrenched it open and saw two startled men, the shorter one with his hand up ready to knock. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Uh, hey!" said Dean warily. "We came as soon as we could."

The young woman shot them both irritated looks. "Why?"

"Your sister called," Sam explained. "She said-"

" _DAWN!_ " Buffy shouted. " _Get down here NOW!_ "

From upstairs, the annoyed teenager called out something unintelligible. The Slayer and the two hunters stood around silently, the former crossing her arms and impatiently tapping her fingers, and the latter feeling deeply uncomfortable. Dean was completely floored by the hostility, especially after how amicably they'd parted, and couldn't begin to fathom the source. His own temper was starting to boil.

A long minute later, Buffy's fourteen-year-old sister came bounding down the stairs. She spotted the visitors and brightened immediately. "You made it!"

"So you _did_ call them," growled her sister.

"Um, yep," Dawn responded as she finally noticed Buffy's mood. "I mean, I called all those numbers and left messages, do you guys _really_ have that many cell phones…?

"What were you _thinking_? And how did you get into my phone?"

"Well, Spike got all hurt! Angel wasn't going to stay, so I figured that they could come in and help instead! And you really need to pick something other than your birthday for your code."

"They've got no business being here." Buffy grasped the door, intending to slam it shut. "So you two just hop right back into your car and head on home." She began swinging the door closed and Dean smacked his hand on the wood to prop it open.

"Look," he snarled, stabbing the Slayer in the chest with his finger, "I don't know what _stick_ you've shoved up your ass since we were last here but we took a detour from frigging _Idaho_ for your sakes. Sammy's still recovering from a gunshot wound and I've been driving for _hours_ , so stop with the bitch act and tell me what the _HELL_ is going on!"

Buffy whirled on her sister, astonished. "You didn't _tell them_?"

"I… I didn't think…"

"No, of course you didn't." She whipped back to the Winchesters. "Your friend Castiel promised to come back to finish healing my mom and _didn't_. And now she's dead."

Dean's anger evaporated. He stared down at the diminutive blonde, stunned.

"Oh God. We're really, really sorry," Sam said quietly. "Dean, maybe we should go." They began heading back towards the Impala.

"Wait," Buffy called. "At least tell me why he didn't come."

The brothers glanced at each other and the younger Winchester sighed. "A few weeks back we… well, _I_ thought I was getting messages from God telling me to go to Lucifer's Cage. You know, for help with Amara? It turned out that the person sending them was Lucifer himself."

"He's real?" Dawn squeaked.

"Unfortunately."

"Biggest dickhole in the universe, by the way," inserted Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes before continuing. "Anyways, he wanted out. At one point I agreed to be his vessel and I think he figured he could just jump right back in."

Buffy gaped at him. "You were his _what_ …?"

"Whole other story, and besides, I refused. Lucifer didn't exactly take that so well and, long story short, Cass came to my rescue and _he_ said yes."

"Yes to what?"

"To becoming _Lucifer's vessel_."

Buffy's head swam as her wrath left in a rush. She wandered into the living room and onto the couch, her hands clasped. "Oh God. So… So where is Castiel? Is he…?"

The Winchesters cautiously entered the house and stood in the foyer. "Far as we know still in there," Sam explained. "We didn't even know it had happened once we made it out of Hell. Lucifer nearly killed me once I figured it out. Cass took control for a second and stopped him."

"So he couldn't come."

"No. Or-Or if he had, it would have been _Lucifer_ and… well I don't think he would have helped. I'm so, so sorry Buffy."

She sighed and hooked her hair behind her ears. Silence reigned as Buffy fought back tears. Finally she said, "No, I'm sorry. I think needed someone to blame and I decided on Castiel. She just… the doctors said it was a brain aneurysm. Nothing anyone could have done."

As Sam sat down beside Buffy and tried his best to offer comfort, Dean stood there and grimaced. The brothers knew loss intimately and dealing with grief was just a regular, if undesirable, part of their lives. They had known death in some of its most terrible forms, from fatal beatings to sacrificial evisceration. They'd even faced their _own_ demise several times. In fact, each individual that they'd mourned, including each other, had gone bloody and violent; Jo and Ellen, Bobby, Charlie, Kevin, dad, _mom_ …

This was different. This was just stupid, mundane _human_ fragility. Dean hated it. Dean _envied_ it. His end would never be with such peace. He idly wondered what Joyce's heaven looked like as he finally said, "Look, you want us to leave, we're gone. It's up to you."

"No, stay," Buffy said as Dawn made herself comfortable on the living room floor. "At least rest from the drive. If you want, you two can share mom's bed."

"Thanks," Sam responded gratefully as Dean walked over and sat on an open recliner. "We can buy dinner."

"That would be nice," the Slayer responded as she breathed away a stifled sob. "So I guess you guys have been busy."

One story led to another and they ended up spending the next several hours swapping tales. Dean and Sam tried to explain Amara without revealing the entirety of her origins and related the harrowing trip back and forth from Hell. The Summers filled their guests in on how Dawn had discovered she was the Key and, after a few incidents (including a brush with Glory), had come to accept her origins. Sam showed off the bandages covering his abdomen while relating the botched werewolf hunt. Buffy tried to explain her desert vision quest and speaking with the first Slayer. Dean told them about meeting their childhood wrestling idols. Dawn laughingly mentioned the "Buffybot" and then, more somberly, lauded how Spike had risked his life to keep her secret. They paused their conversation once to have a few pizzas delivered and again when the pies arrived. Then they continued.

Not all of their anecdotes were serious. Buffy related one memorable Halloween where an enchantment had caused everyone to take on the aspects of their costume. The brothers described how the Trickster had trapped them in a TV land where they'd met Dr. Sexy, MD. When the small hours of the morning arrived, and Dawn had succumbed to sleepiness, the Slayer and the hunters realized they had regained the sense of companionship that had developed during their last stay. Reluctantly they all headed to their bed feeling better than they had in weeks.

* * *

As far as sucky lives went, Ben Wilkinson was fairly certain that his broke the measuring needle on the scale of suckiness. It had been three _weeks_ this time since he had been in control of his body while Glory ran rampant doing who knows what, and his supervisor at Sunnydale Memorial had let him go. Now the one thing that was his, the one thing that had _truly_ mattered, had been brutally yanked away. Years of medical school and training were down the drain.

Glory's takeover of their shared form had begun freshman year of high school. Ben had been clocked in the head by a baseball while manning shortstop and had woken up a few hours later in the dressing room at the local Neiman Marcus. He was wearing nothing but a negligee and heels. Somehow he'd managed to sneak away to the stock room, kick off the shoes, steal someone's jacket, and sprint for home barefoot.

This happened sporadically for the next few years. At first he thought, after googling comprehensively, that he'd been struck with some form of Multiple Personality Disorder. He was too frightened of being stigmatized to bring it up with his parents.

Then the demons showed up, all worship and supplication, and gained his acceptance through a series of lavish gifts. When they were allowed to explain who they were and why they were there Ben was both stunned and relieved. At least he now had answers.

And then he was accosted by one of Glory's victims.

It was easy enough to mistake them for the usual vagrants, but when one of them prostrated themselves in front of an eighteen year old Ben he realized that Glory was the cause. He began to quietly lead the poor men to shelters and hospitals, and sometimes even just led them to the woods so that they'd wander away out of sight. Every time he took care of one he'd felt sick knowing that, at least by proxy, he was at fault. The only thing to do was to figure out how to actually help them and work towards a cure. The normal method was to learn medicine, which he set to with enthusiasm. The abnormal method was to look into _magic_ , which he did with great reluctance. Eventually Ben was forced to utilize both to take clean up the Hellgod's messes.

Medical school created a catch–22 of sorts. Hours of intense work cumulated in his graduating with honors from the prestigious, and rigorous, UCSF School of Medicine, but the entailing fatigue gave Glory more opportunities to break free. However, until Ben had arrived for his internship at Sunnydale Memorial he'd only lost hours.

Then it became days.

And now it was _weeks_.

The young man slammed closed his locker and leaned his head against it. Glory's minions were becoming more and more anxious to find the Key as the time of this ritual of theirs became closer. He knew who it was. He could solve everyone's problem right now. Revulsion swamped him as he thought of what that would entail.

How desperate would he need to be in order to justify murdering a little girl?


	12. Part II: Chapter 12

The next morning was Monday and Dean offered to drop Dawn off at school. The teenager walked smugly out of the impressive muscle car driven by the equally impressive, handsome older man to the admiration of her peers. As the youngest Summers was surrounded by a horde of giggling girlfriends, the elder Winchester waved and the Impala roared away.

He then went back to the Summers' home to pick up Buffy and his brother. They headed for the Magic Box where a surprised Giles gave them a warm greeting and Anya gave a more tepid one. She had evidently discovered that the Winchesters had been responsible for another friend's demise: Isis, who had been slaughtered by Lucifer several years before. While Dean tried to convince the former vengeance demon that the Egyptian goddess' death was mostly her own fault (she and a contingent of other pagan deities had been planning to use the Winchester brothers as leverage against the feuding archangels), Buffy headed to the back to get ready to train. Sam was left to answer Giles' inquiry as to why they had returned.

"Looks like Dawn decided on all her own that you guys needed help," the hunter said with a shrug. "At least after Spike got the crap beat out of him."

"Yes, well, the more here to fight Glory the better I suppose. Has your Amara been taken care of? Are you sure you shouldn't be with your angelic friend dealing with her?"

Sam again related the tale of Castiel's ill-conceived plan to allow Lucifer to use his vessel. "It wouldn't be the first time he's tried to do something good and it went really, _really_ wrong. Kind of becoming his M.O."

Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them with an edge of his sweater. "I hope you won't mind me saying, he appears to be quite troublesome to have around."

The younger Winchester shrugged. "He's saved our lives more times than I can count. From what I've heard there isn't a single one of us that can say we haven't screwed up good intentions."

Giles was silent as he contemplated his past, remembering a certain young man nicknamed "Ripper" whose sole purpose in life had been to do anything and everything in the name of self-gratification (and to hell with the consequences). The Watcher rubbed the top of his forearm over the tiny tattoo still imbedded in his skin. "At least your friend has the luxury of erring on the side of good. There are some whose sins come from far more selfish reasons."

"Yeah, well, we've certainly known both. You guys find anything that'll help with Glory while we were gone?"

By the tremendous sigh Giles let loose Sam had his answer. "All we know for certain is that she now knows the Key is in human form. I would ask that you and your brother be very, very careful."

The younger Winchester nodded and looked over at Dean and Anya. The young woman had apparently reconciled her friend's death with the fact that they had been instrumental in preventing Kali, yet _another_ friend, from also dying at Lucifer's hands. "Wasn't she dating Loki?" Anya was asking. "Wonder what happened to him."

Dean's eyebrows lifted and he wiped a hand down his face, exasperated. "Uh, well, he's dead too."

" _What?_ " she shrieked, startling the few customers that were browsing.

"Yeah, I'm going to go help Dean on this one," said Sam as he walked over to the counter to try and explain the conundrum that was Loki, aka Gabriel the archangel.

Giles shook his head and turned to handle a patron who was gaping at his cashier. Spike's unfortunate encounter with the Hellgod, brought about by the vampire's lust for Buffy, had actually left the Watcher feeling pity for the pitiless William the Bloody. The Winchesters, by contrast, were by all appearances _good people_. It was doubtful that any purposeful action of theirs would put them into Glory's merciless hands. However, if it did happen, the Watcher promised himself that he would fly out to England and throttle the idiot whose incompetence had drawn the hunters to the Hellmouth.

* * *

The most magnificent, most glorious, most _beautiful_ Glorificus had ordered him and his fellow supplicants to catalogue the most reviled Slayer's associates and that was just what Grish was doing. He would huddle in a thousand piles of trash, a _million_ fecal studded alleyways if it would please the great god.

Grish had been clever, oh so clever, at finding this particular smelly area. It was dark enough that ignorant humans wouldn't see his unworthy countenance, yet it provided an excellent view of the Slayer's secondary hovel, the old merchant's place of business. It had been four hours, but Grish refused to move. Even though his weak and pitiful frame was starting to feel tired and hungry he would prevail! Even though his eyelids were beginning to close…

The demon smacked himself in the head, praying to the most magnanimous one to forgive him his lapse. All thoughts and actions must be focused on glorious Glorificus' plans. Grish looked again into the business hovel and peered at the two tall human males.

He was certain the most terrible one would be interested in knowing they had returned. Perhaps he would be selected next time to attend her most splendiforously naked cleansing.

* * *

For the next several hours, as Giles' time was being monopolized by his Slayer, Sam spent time with more of the books accompanied by Anya. In theory, she was minding the store, but Mondays tended to be dreary in terms of sales and the ex-demon spent most of the time attempting to find out who else the Winchesters had killed. Her ingenious method was to shout out random names and wait for a response. As they had, so far, all been unknowns, the younger Winchester was automatically answering "No" while perusing "Black and White Magicks: Which Should You Choose?"

Since Giles was still adamant that they adhere to the separation agreement between the Men of Letters and the Watcher's Council, Dean was oblique as he called some hunters and asked if they'd ever heard of a "Hellgod." Most were alarmed at the word "Hell"; they were worried that the demons had concocted some new, more powerful version of themselves. Others laughed and wondered what the Winchesters had dug up this time. Dean forced himself to tell them not to worry and hung up before anyone could ask where exactly he was calling from.

Buffy and Giles spent their time in the training room doing a full Slayer exercise regiment: meditation, stretches, weapon work, and sparring. In the midst of a break, the Slayer checked her voicemail and discovered that the principal of Dawn's school had requested a meeting after school hours.

"She's going to tell me how awesome my sister is and tell me how awesome I am as a guardian?" Buffy asked hopefully.

Her Watcher stuttered a few half-formed guesses in order to cover up his lack of a positive response. She sighed. "Yeah, she's probably in trouble. I'm going to clean up and head over. Can you drive me?"

"I would, but from what I can hear through the door Anya might be acting more vexatiously than usual. I'd better take over from her before one of the hunters puts a dagger in her chest."

"Maybe Dean can do it." She cringed as she realized her lack of clarification. "The _driving_ , not the _stabbing_."

Ten minutes later, washed clean and deodorized, wearing fresh, non-sweaty clothing, Buffy walked out of the training room into the store. The Winchesters were both sitting at the reading table, Sam's nose still in a book and Dean slouched comfortably in a chair with his feet up. Giles had taken over the register and Anya was still calling names, only now she was standing directly before the Winchesters, arms crossed.

"Halfrek!"

"No," the brothers responded together.

"A bunny demon!

"No."

"Cyvus Vail!"

"No."

"Anat!"

"No."

"Crowley!"

" _What?_ " cried Dean.

" _Excuse_ me?" Sam blurted.

"Ah- _hah_!" Anya cried triumphantly. She waggled a finger at them and then slapped her hands on the table. "I _knew_ there had to be someone else!"

Dean sat up and put his feet down. "King Dickhead is still around. We just saw him."

"And then you killed him."

"Much as I would have liked to, no."

"How the _hell_ do you know Crowley?" Sam inquired.

The ex-demon shrugged. "Lady was mad because her boyfriend was screwing anything that walked by with boobs. Ended up there because, well, she was radiating the biggest desire for vengeance. Turns out she was double dipping the demon pool because while I was busy burning off the boyfriend's genitals she somehow got Crowley to come."

The brothers shifted uncomfortably at Anya's nonchalant manner towards personal mutilation. "He used to be a crossroads demon," Sam explained. "She probably figured out the ritual. Guess she sold her soul for something?"

"Asked him to make her more beautiful so the boyfriend would regret everything." She sighed wistfully. "I let him live, he walked around bowlegged, and ten years later she was kaput."

"That still doesn't understand how you even met him."

"Oh. Sensed each other's powers. Met up, found we had some stuff in common, had sex. Met up a few times afterwards for more sex."

Sam gaped and Dean looked ill. "Never, _ever_ , _EVER_ , mention that again." He put his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. "God, I need brain bleach."

"Dean," Buffy said quietly, as she tapped him on the shoulder, "could you drive me to Dawn's school?"

The elder Winchester stood up quickly. "Yeah, sure. Anything to get away from thinking about Crowley doing… _stuff_ … Gah! If I think about this anymore I'm gonna barf."

* * *

The ride to the school was full of music as Dean educated Buffy on the best of rock and roll. The ride to the house with Dawn in the backseat was full of awkward silence. Dean solved the problem by turning up the AC/DC and driving as fast as possible.

When they arrived at the Summers' home, the sisters both slammed their respective car doors and stalked inside. Having not been told whether he was to stay or go, Dean followed. He stood on the stoop as Buffy pointed up the stairs and demanded, "Homework. _Now_."

As Dawn sullenly stomped upwards, Buffy put a hand on her forehead and let loose an enormous sigh. She swiveled around and started when she saw the hunter at her doorstep. "God…! I forgot you were here."

"Problems?" he asked amicably.

"Tons," she answered quietly and walked into the living room. "Apparently Dawn's version of 'school is okay' means 'school is that shiny building I'm never inside of.'" Buffy plopped down on the couch and stared glumly forward.

"And…?" Dean asked as he sat down beside her.

"And… And if she doesn't improve, then they're going to take her away." The Slayer clasped her hands together tightly and hunched her shoulders. "How would I protect her if they do that? Where would they put her? With my dad? In a _foster family_? What if Glory-"

"Hey," the elder Winchester interjected. He put his arm around her and gently drew her close. "Now I am the last person to say that school is great since, you know, I never finished it, but I think that the almighty Slayer can figure this out."

"That's the thing," said Buffy as she sank comfortably back into the couch and Dean's arm, "I can't punch or stab this to make it all better. I have to be responsible, like _adultish_ responsible. I have to make sure that my sister does her homework, goes to bed on time, does chores, eats her fruits and vegetables. Maybe I could make a chart with gold stars and stuff. That's what little kids like, right? Shiny golden stars?"

The hunter shrugged. "Dunno. Didn't exactly have a gold star chart kinda life as a kid."

Buffy leaned her head on his shoulder and covered his hand with her own. She sighed again. "I know I can figure this out."

"Are you two making out on the couch?" Dawn called from the stairwell.

Buffy and Dean suddenly realized how intimate it looked like they had become and quickly parted. The Slayer stood up while the hunter cleared his throat and tried to act as if nothing happened. "What are you doing down here?" Buffy countered. "Did you finish your homework? How long have you been standing there?"

"I heard you guys talking and I kinda just hung out at the top of the stairs," replied her little sister. "By the way, I'm too old for shiny gold stars. Why didn't you tell me they might take me away?"

"I was going to talk to you about it. Later."

"Well, this is later."

The two Summers stared at one another. Dawn finally said in a very small voice, "I don't want to live somewhere else. I want to stay here with _you_."

Buffy walked over and gave her a big, sisterly hug. "Then we'll make this work. No matter what." She let Dawn go and turned towards Dean. "Let's head back to the Magic Box and see what's going on."

"Sounds good to me," the hunter said as he heaved himself off the couch. "How 'bout picking up some food on the way there? What's the best joint around here for pie?"


	13. Part II: Chapter 13

By the time they made it back to the Magic Box, evening had fallen and Giles had closed the shop. The rest of the gang had meandered inside during the intervening hours. Buffy quietly commiserated with her Watcher over the increased pressure to do well by her sister as Sam, Tara, and Willow helped the younger Summers with her algebra homework. The remainder of the group (Dean, Xander, and Anya) set about to demolish what was left of a blueberry pie and an apple pie.

"I think I'm going to patrol," the Slayer decided. "Nothing says relieving stress like stabbing something with a pointy stick."

Dean approached and asked, "Mind if I go with? I'm no use here."

"Not true," Anya countered loudly. "You brought delicious pie. Actually, if you leave there will be _more_ pie for me and Xander. Perhaps I can put some on my body later and-"

"And lo, the conversation stops now!" her boyfriend announced.

"Oh, thank God," Giles muttered.

Buffy shrugged at Dean then called out to her little sister, "Promise me you're going to finish that and head on home after." Made somber by the possibility that she might lose her sister as a legal guardian, Dawn nodded without giving a snarky response.

"Don't worry, Buffy," assured Willow. "We'll take care of her."

"And I'll transport the ol' Dawneroonie," Xander proclaimed. "Don't let it be said that I'm not helpful."

As his brother started following Buffy out the door, a perplexed Sam looked up from Dawn's textbook and asked, "Where are _you_ going?"

The elder Winchester thumbed at the door. "To go kill something."

Sam shrugged and shook his head before helping Willow explain logarithms.

The hunter and the Slayer got into the Impala and set off. "Head for Kingsman's Bluff cemetery," instructed Buffy. She rattled off a quick set of directions. "I need to double check on Spike."

"Why do you care if a _vampire_ is okay?" Dean grumbled.

She sighed. "He really did do a good thing this time. It's not to say that it makes up for all the stupid stuff he's done before. I mean, deep underneath he's a horrible, soulless monster who deserves a nice staking, but I'm kind of short on options lately."

"Wait, what? You telling me your vamps have no souls?"

"Well, yeah. It's like, when they get turned, human soul goes bye-bye and this demon moves in."

"Huh. Almost makes ours seem worse."

"Why?"

"Ours are just, you know, people who got turned. Soul is still sitting in there until they get sent to Purgatory."

Buffy contemplated this a moment, then she realized the implications. "You mean yours are _normal_ humans with _normal_ consciences that are out there _willingly_ killing other humans?"

"Basically, yeah. It's the hunger; they can't control it. We met this one chick, Lenore, kind of looked like Tara back there, was trying to make it off of animal blood. Eventually she was _forced_ to feed on a little girl and she got so messed up she asked us to kill her."

"And?"

"Cass did it."

"Oh."

Silence fell as they approached a stoplight, and the two looked out opposite windows. As Dean was remembering how nice it felt to have young woman in his arms (and feeling strangely guilty over it), Buffy suddenly said, "I had to lie to my last boyfriend."

Bemused, the hunter asked, "What?"

She kept her gaze fixed to a mysterious point down the street. "I had to _lie._ I couldn't tell him what I was and what I did because I thought he was _normal_. Then it turned out he was lying too."

"What about?"

"Well, it turned out he was part of the Initiative: government organization that was trying to make demons into pets. All came to a bad end. We tried, after, to make things work. It's just… It's just I didn't know how to _need_ him. I'm the Slayer. I had to be stronger than _everyone_. So he left."

The light turned green and Dean pressed the accelerator. "Yeah, well, never was easy telling girls what was going on with my family. Didn't have a dad with a job you can tell their parents about, you know? Sammy used to tell people dad was a mechanic. Got older, still couldn't say nothin' about what I did. I mean, what are you supposed to tell them? Guess what, me and my brother travel around the country killing monsters? Oh, and by the way, monsters are real."

They turned quiet again as the cemetery came into view. Dean parked the car and they sat there, staring off into the distance, trying to deny where Buffy's statements were leading. Finally, to the hunter's consternation, she broke the silence.

"Would _you_ lie to me?"

Bereft of a positive answer, the hunter gave her an inscrutable glance before exiting the car and heading for the trunk. Buffy immediately followed. He started to hand her a machete and she displayed the stake stowed inside her jacket.

The truth was that while they had been sharing battle stories there were a lot of things that the Winchesters had either skimmed over or omitted altogether. They hadn't told the Summers girls about Dean's crossroads deal and his subsequent trip to Hell, much less what had happened to him in the Pit. Sam had talked about confronting Lucifer and ending up in Hell, but nothing about how the hunter had returned a soulless sociopath. And while they had a fun time comparing "Dicks" (Buffy's mayor turned demon and the Winchesters' leviathan CEO) utilizing as many phallic references as possible, Castiel's role as the harbinger of the Purgatory natives was never mentioned.

Dean shoved his favorite Bowie into his jacket and grabbed a few bottles of holy water. He shut the trunk and smirked at Buffy. "No guns, right?"

"You've already lied about something," she replied suspiciously.

"No, I just haven't told you _everything_. And I'm not gonna. Lead the way."

She stared at him, cynicism replacing the burgeoning affection, before walking into the graveyard. The elder Winchester was relieved she didn't press the issue. As much as he was beginning to be fond of the young woman, he already knew their… whatever it was… would end badly. It always did.

They took a meandering path through the tombstones before arriving at a large family masoleum. The name inscribed on the top had been worn away by the years. Oddly, there were dim flickering lights through the thick windows as well as the faint sound of conversation, almost as if someone was watching a television inside.

It turned out Spike had pilfered an iPad from another vampire and had forced his fellow half-demon to fork over the charger, the case, and the credit card that insured the LTE kept going. "Staked the bloke anyways," he added, "so don't go lookin' for him."

Dean winced when he got a good look at the vampire. Spike was sprawled on an ancient recliner with a swollen foot propped up on an equally ancient ottoman. As one eye was completely bruised shut, he had the tablet three inches in front of his face as he watched what appeared to be some bizarre soap opera. Lacerations marred his nose and forehead. The flesh exposed above the scooped neck of his black shirt bore a few seeping holes whose origins the hunter didn't ever want explained.

Spike shrugged when Buffy asked him how soon he would heal. "Don't worry, love. 'Less you're plannin' on letting the lumberjack over there take off my head I'll be fine in a day or so."

"I need you to be prepared for Dawn's sake," Buffy said harshly. "You're _useless_ otherwise."

As Dean lifted his eyebrows at the Slayer's pragmatic, almost cold, tone, the vampire despondently muttered, "Yeah, I know. That's all I'm good for, isn't it? That why you hangin' around the hunter? Maybe you'll find _this_ one in an alley gettin' his bloody rocks off too."

The young woman stared furiously at the peroxide blonde curls before turning on her heel and stomping out of the crypt. In retaliation for Buffy's irritation, Dean stepped forward and gave Spike a hard whack upside the head.

"Bloody hell!" the vampire yelped as Dean headed for the exit. Spike rubbed the sore part of his skull then called over, "Hey."

"What?"

"Piece of advice. _Stay away from the Slayer_. Anyone who falls in love with that girl ends up hurt."

"The hell you talking about?"

Spike's one good eye peered at Dean. "I can smell it, mate, your scent on her. Whatever you two were doin'… well, don't say I didn't warn you." He then tapped on the tablet and resumed his interrupted show.

The elder Winchester left the crypt, bewildered. He could swear he could hear _jealousy_ in the creature's voice. Was it even possible for a soulless vampire to have emotional attachments?

The girl in question was pacing between a few tombstones, her arms tightly crossed. As soon as Dean was close enough, she withdrew her stake and began walking towards the center of the cemetery. "So," the hunter said, "there a reason why the vampire's a giant douchebag?"

"Well, we did take away his favorite toy."

"Yeah, you never did say why he made it after _you_ rather than, say, Angelina Jolie."

Buffy stopped and turned around. "He thinks he's in love with me, okay?"

"Oh." Taken aback, Dean merely blinked at the Slayer. "Explains a lot."

"Explains _what_ exactly?"

"Uh… Well… He said something… Never mind." The hunter moved ahead of Buffy and tried to continue on their course. She grabbed his arm and yanked hard enough to spin him back around.

"Well?"

Furious, Dean snarled, "Let go of my arm."

"Make me," she snapped back.

To Buffy's astonishment, the hunter pulled out his Bowie knife and backhanded a slice where her head had been a moment before. Before she could retaliate, she realized that she'd heard the _clang_ of metal against metal. The Slayer risked glancing up and saw Dean struggling against a sword that had been aimed at her neck. With her hands on the ground, the Slayer kicked the assailant's hands and knocked the blade away. The hunter then quickly stepped forward and punched him in the face.

After inheriting the sword Buffy stood up. Instinctively, Dean shoved her behind his back as a patrol of the Knights of Byzantium arrayed themselves in a semi-circle. "You continue to protect the Key, Slayer," shouted the middle Knight. His adornments were slightly more intricate and marked him as their leader. "We will continue to pursue its destruction! Such is the will of God."

As the leader's subordinates repeated the last piece of ecclesiastical drivel, Dean whispered, "What's with the LARP rejects?"

Buffy bullied herself forward so they were in equal prominence and quickly explained who they were. She then added, "They're human, just stupid. Try not to kill any."

"Maiming okay?"

"The more de-limbing the better."

The Knights roared a battle cry and charged. Three headed for the Slayer, as they had decided she was the greater threat, and two towards Dean. One of his attackers bore a spiked mace and the other a halberd. On their foreheads a sigil had been tattooed. "You guys all know that the tramp stamp goes on your _back_ and not on your face."

The two attempted to flank him, a problem that he solved by backing up into a nearby tree. Halberd-Guy pointed his weapon at the hunter. "Our marks signify us as God's chosen, here to protect our world from the Beast."

"No matter what creature you are," added Mace-Guy, we will not all allow you to help the Slayer protect the Key."

"Yeah, well, sorry boys," Dean apologized. "All human."

"It does not matter. If you aid her, you are damned in the Lord's eyes and shall be sent to Hell."

"Been there, done that. You dorks of the Round Table gonna do something or just make speeches?"

With another shout, the pair attacked. Dean ducked under the mace and came up to slice the halberd's shaft in half. He did his best to remember that the two were _people_ and not monsters, so the stab to the jugular he really wanted to inflict on Mace-Guy became a hilt to the face. Halberd-Guy then took the opportunity to whack the hunter on the back, luckily with the half of his weapon without the axe.

One overzealous Knight had already tried attacking Buffy solo and was now lying on the ground clutching his head. She'd slapped him hard on the temple with the flat of her blade and her enhanced Slayer-strength had crunched his chain coif. The Knight's scalp had split and links of steel were imbedded into his skin. Quickly she grabbed his sword, flipped her paired weapons over to gain a comfortable grip, and stared down the remaining men.

"Why do you do this, Slayer?" asked the Leader. "Let us destroy the Key and the Beast will become powerless."

"She's not a ' _Key_ ,'" Buffy angrily shot back. "You're trying to murder a _little girl_."

"It is an object of great power, one that the Beast will use to destroy this world. You undo _centuries_ of our holy work!"

"Then you're way overdue for a new job."

The Leader charged, his claymore overhead. His lackey, armed with a bow and arrow, tried to aim but the furious exchange of blows that ensued made it difficult to shoot without harming his superior. He risked a shot as Buffy used her crossed swords to deflect the much larger, heavier blade. The Slayer whipped around, dodging the projectile. It flew into the other fight and hit the back of Mace-Guy. He grunted and fell to his knees. Dean then kicked him in the face.

Halberd-Guy had tossed the broken wooden part of his weapon and was now wielding the remainder as a poorly balanced battle-axe. The hunter leaned out of the way of most of his strikes and used his knife to parry others, but he'd already suffered shallow cuts to his arms and shoulder. His Bowie was too lightweight to deflect the larger blade for much longer, and the next time the axe descended the steel snapped. Dean threw the remains at Halberd-Guy's nose and dove for the abandoned mace.

The strength of the Leader was impressive, though not other-worldly, and the claymore moved swiftly in his two-handed grip. Chagrined by his wayward attempt, the archer was trying to make amends by taking more risks and firing more often. Most arrows struck tombstones but there were a few that had scraped through Buffy's shirt and the cuts stung. Annoyed, the Slayer whacked the Leader's sword away hard enough to send him stumbling a few steps then hurled her secondary blade like a javelin. It imbedded into the bowman's shoulder then pinned him into the dirt.

As far as weapons went, Dean decided that maces _sucked_. It was too cumbersome and the spikes were as much a danger to himself as the opponent. It did, however, have the advantage in weight and after a few blows Halberd-Guy's broken weapon fell out of nerveless fingers. The hunter then punched him in the side of the head, hard, and turned towards Buffy.

The Slayer and the Leader appeared to be equally matched in skill and the heaviness of the latter's claymore seemed to be countering the advantage Buffy normally had in enhanced strength. Dean regretted leaving his firearms back in the trunk and decided no matter what the girl said he was going to carry one around the Hellmouth from now on. He looked around for anything he could use to help. Unfortunately, other than the discarded Medieval weaponry, the cemetery pretty much only held dirt and dead people. The hunter then had a flash of inspiration. He knelt down and starting feeling around.

When the rock clanged against the Leader's temple, he reflexively looked towards the source. The momentary distraction gave Buffy the opportunity to catch the claymore's cross guard with her blade and disarm the remaining Knight. Breathing hard, she pointed the tip of her sword at his neck as he knelt.

Dean walked up behind her tossing another rock up and down in one hand. "We good?"

"Yup."

"We are _legion_ ," snarled the Knight Leader. "You may kill us, but we will return in our hundreds, our _thousands_ , our-"

"Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, I got the speech last time." The Slayer dimpled the man's skin with the tip of her sword, stopping just before the point of drawing blood. "Just pick up your men and go."

The Knights who could stand picked up their fellows while she kept their leader hostage. Once they started limping off, Buffy let him stand to join them. He glared murderously before running to his men. Buffy and Dean waited until the darkness swallowed the Knights' forms before sitting down on the ground and leaning against a tombstone with tremendous sighs. "Well, that was fun," the young woman finally murmured.

"Something like that," Dean muttered as he checked the slices on his arms. Buffy looked over and gasped; they were no longer bleeding profusely but his sleeves were soaked.

"Oh my God! Are you okay?"

"Think so– _Ow_!" he yelled when she poked a wound.

"These are going to need stitches," Buffy said worriedly as she delicately the shredded pieces of cloth away.

Dean looked down at his arm. "Just need some Johnny Walker and Sammy. He's used to it by now."

They looked up together, their faces close. Maybe it was the excitement of the joint skirmish, maybe it was just the tension of being next to an attractive member of the opposite sex. Maybe it was mutual hunger. The young woman put her hand gently on the hunter's face and he covered it with his own.

Their lips met.

Their arms were around each other.

And nothing else seemed to matter at that moment except the feeling of being suddenly and passionately loved.


	14. Part II: Chapter 14

Their lips met and they devoured one other for a lifetime, for an _eternity_. They parted far too soon. Two pairs of green eyes gazed at one another… and had _very_ different reactions.

Buffy felt a spark of optimism. She barely knew the man, and he had nearly two decades on her in age, but being right here _right now_ just felt so _lovely_. A part of her worried, just as she'd told Angel the night of her mother's funeral, that the way her life had been going was making her vulnerable. Yet she couldn't shake the idea that there was so much potential here with the hunter, with a man whose life seemed so similar to hers, that the Slayer contemplated throwing caution to the wind. She leaned in to continue their embrace.

Then Dean turned away and stood up, swearing under his breath.

She was too young. _Far_ too young. Despite the maturity in her eyes, Buffy was technically only twenty years old. _What was he thinking_? He'd seen it in her eyes; the hope, the romance, that particular sense of wonder that was always evident in the naive. It pierced him cruelly because despite all the good he had done in his life, all the lives he'd saved, the horrors that he'd wrought couldn't possibly be forgiven by this small, beautiful girl.

"Yeah, okay," he said without looking at her. It took everything he had not to sit back down and see where their ardor took them. "We should get going."

Bewildered, Buffy didn't move. "What?"

"Getting late. We should be heading back."

Her heart sunk and the extraordinary feelings she'd had shattered. "You go. I've still got time to be out here." … _And think, and maybe cry a little about what just happened._

"Goddamnit," Dean muttered as he wiped a hand down his face. "Look. You're a kid. That was a mistake."

Incensed, Buffy was instantly on her feet. "' _Kid?_ '"

"Yeah, a kid!" The hunter wheeled around, finally looking at her again. "You're a frigging _kid_!"

"Excuse me? You don't know _anything_ about me! What I've been through, the things I've seen. Don't you _dare_ talk like I'm just some stupid little girl!"

"Yeah? Well you don't know crap about _me_." Dean stabbed his finger at her. "There's lives, _human_ lives, on my conscience and I'm not gonna draw you into that!"

The Slayer spread her arms and let them drop. "Oh, here we go. The old guy, telling _poor little Buffy_ that he's too much trouble, that there's no future, that all his dark past is too much for me to handle. Well guess what? You think your past is bad? I've loved a man who spent a _hundred years_ writing the book of badness. And that vampire in there who thinks he loves me? _He helped!_ I know darkness, I've dealt with darkness. So why can't I decide for once what's good or bad for myself?"

Furious, Dean's volume rose. "No, I am not doing this crap, _not now_ , not with Amara and Glory and everything else that's gonna come zooming in because we care about each other. You think it felt bad when your mother died? How much you worry about your sister dying? How about knowing that your _dad_ died and went to Hell because he wanted you to live instead? How about finding out the demon you were after burned down a bar _full of hunters_ to keep them quiet? Or how about," he said, his voice growing soft, "how about watching the angel _you_ let inside your brother burn the life out of an _innocent kid_ that you swore to protect?"

By the time his litany ended, Buffy's hands were over her mouth and tears glimmered in her eyes. "Oh God, Dean, I didn't know…"

"I don't need your pity and I'll be damned if I'll draw anyone else into my life _just to watch them die_!"

At that, the Slayer's hands fell to her sides and bunched into fists. "You know what, Dean Winchester? You're a _coward_. A stupid, self-absorbed coward too afraid to even _try_ to feel for someone just because of maybes and what-ifs. Well I don't need a coward in my life, and I certainly don't need _you_." Buffy turned and sprinted into the cemetery. Within moments she was gone.

Dean spent the next several minutes uncertain if he should leave or go look for her. She was a young woman alone in the dark, at the mercy of whatever creatures might haunt the cemetery. Then he remembered that _she_ was the one that _they_ were afraid of and began walking back to the Impala. He halted at the scritch of a match being struck.

Leaning against a small crypt was Spike. He was busy lighting the cigarette in his mouth by a match covered by his cupped hand. The vampire didn't bother to look up as he commented, "She's right you know."

The hunter glared and resumed on his path. Spike followed, smoking. "Look, mate, I spent over a hundred years with Drusilla. Beautiful woman, completely insane. She left me and now Buffy won't have me."

"There a point to this? 'Cause right now it just sounds like your life is just pathetic."

"The _point_ is," said the vampire as he walked quickly in front of Dean and forced him to halt, "death is always going to be part of _her_ life, _your_ life, and it bloody well _dances_ with mine. She don't seem to care about it so why should you?"

"Yeah? Buffy said you think you're in love with her. Why the hell should you care what I think?"

"You're right, I don't." Spike flicked the butt of his cigarette onto a nearby grave. "But I thought I'd point out how idiotic you are. Helps me feel better. Cheers!" He gave Dean a two-fingered salute and limped back towards his crypt.

That, the elder Winchester decided, was the cherry on the top of this particular night's disgustingly putrid pie. There was only one solution that presented itself.

Go find the rattiest bar in town and get blind, stinking drunk.

* * *

Buffy wandered the cemetery hoping for a vampire, a demon, a bad guy of any sort that she could take her frustration out on. Sadly, no one obliged.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_! With what he'd been through of _course_ Dean thought she was just a little girl. She should've known after all those war stories and friendly banter that something was up. No one could be that nonchalant about Lucifer and Hell without hiding something. The problem was that Buffy was used to the way Angel dealt with his past: with deflection and brooding silence. The Winchesters, particularly Dean, hid theirs behind a veneer of humor and self-deprecation. She suspected any time their actual emotions came to fore like they did tonight it came in the form of an explosion of pent-up rage and grief.

Buffy sighed. Both she and Dean were unfortunate victims of fate, but there was no mistaking that the hunter's life had been far harder and infinitely more tragic. Perhaps that's what lay in her future as well. Who knows what she may have to go through in the next two decades? How many close to her would she have to watch die?

All this speculation tore her away from the primary problem: addressing that they'd kissed. Not just some fumbling meeting of the lips over and done with before their next breath, but deeply, passionately _kissed_. It was obvious the two of them were starting to feel something for each other, wanted to be something more than just colleagues in the business of monster killing. However, if Dean was incapable of letting himself even _try_ , then it was better than they end it before it went further.

The big, stupid chicken.

Sunlight glinting off of a car window made Buffy realize that she'd been walking all night. The cuts she'd gotten from the Knights of Byzantium were nearly healed thanks to her Slayer physiology. She headed home.

* * *

Mentally and physically exhausted, Buffy unlocked the front door and started stumbling up the stairs. Then she heard Sam call, "Hey! You seen my brother around?"

"You mean he didn't come back?"

The younger Winchester shrugged. "No, uh, figured he was with you all night." He suddenly became flustered. "Not… _with_ you, but… you know, hunting?"

"No, we separated a while ago. Cover more ground."

Sam nodded. "Makes sense, I guess. Well, wouldn't be the first time he got too tired to drive home and decided to sleep in the car. Anyways, you look bushed. If you want, I'll walk Dawn to school."

"Thanks, I really appreciate it." Buffy's jaws cracked wide open as she yawned. "I'm beat."

"Cool… Get some sleep, all right? And if you hear from Dean, let me know."

The Slayer nodded and gave Dean's younger brother a reassuring smile. As she headed for the bathroom she told herself that it wasn't worth the brain cells to think about her issues with the other Winchester. Right now those cells needed to get her washed, undressed, and into bed before she fell flat on her face.

* * *

Sam knew _something_ had happened between those two, but how far that something went was questionable. Dean was normally greatly considerate of the women he bedded, at least the following morning, so Sam was pretty certain it hadn't gone _that_ far. Anyways, whatever it was, he was positive it had been his brother's fault.

The walk to Dawn's school was peaceful enough, and he indulged the younger Summers' puppy eyes. He stopped walking with her across the street and waved as she hurried to join her friends. The giggling and sly glances that headed his way made Sam cringe. With great effort he froze his genial expression and avoided rolling his eyes until he was out of sight.

Dean had probably gotten drunk, therefore the first thing to do was check around the local bars. The first two were closed; the third, "Willy's," wasn't precisely open but the proprietor hadn't locked the door. The individual that Sam presumed was Willy was standing behind the counter drying glasses.

"Hey there!" the rather skinny and greasy looking man called. "What can I getcha?"

"I'm, uh, actually looking for my brother, Dean. Bout this high, short brown hair?"

"Oh, him! Yeah, he was here. Didn't blink an eye at my other customers. I was pret- _ty_ impressed at your brother's constitution I must say."

"Other customers?" Sam looked around at the empty room, bemused.

"Yep! You're at Willy's, only place in town what allows all sorts of beings this side of the Hellmouth."

"Oh." The younger Winchester gave the bar a scan that was now more along the lines of threat assessment rather than curiosity.

"Anyways, that brother of yours? Stumbled outta here around four in the morning. Dunno where he went after that."

Sam sighed. "All right, thanks." He left a twenty on the counter as a thank you and headed out the door. It was still before noon, so it was probably a good idea to give Dean at least another hour or two to sober up. After that he could harangue him over whatever had happened with Buffy. He started heading for the Magic Box with the intention of passing the time with more research when a wooden bat whacked the hunter on the back of the head.

When Sam merely dropped to his knees, he was struck again, _hard_ , flattening him onto the cement. Before he fell unconscious he heard the bar owner saying, "Don't let it be said that Willy wasn't takin' care of you guys. You let that Glory of yours know that I did good, yeah?"


	15. Part II: Chapter 15

Dean was pretty sure he'd licked a werewolf last night and kept its fur on his tongue. Mucus covered, dirt coated fur. Either that or he was sucking on a dead hamster. Those were the only explanations for whatever vile, dry fuzz that now inhabited the inside of his mouth.

He groaned and sat up, and immediately regretted his decision. His head started pounding away and his stomach gurgled threateningly. When the hunter finally fought down the urge to vomit, he noticed both that he was lying in the front seat of the Impala and that a chorus of tiny meows were serenading him from the back.

 _Meows?_

The elder Winchester looked over the seat and was astonished to see half a dozen kittens of various coats gallivanting around. Addled by whatever he'd been drinking the night before, Dean merely stared at them and tried to figure out what his rules were on cats inside his Baby. He remembered no dogs, but what was he supposed to do about cats…?

One of the cute little things clawed its way up the leather to meow in his face. He promptly sneezed it off then jumped when someone knocked on the window.

"You okay there, buddy?"

The hunter looked out and was startled to see one of the Hellmouth demons. The thing had enormous, floppy rabbit ears on each side of its head and, judging by the folds and hanging flaps, had an extreme overgrowth of skin. It waved cheerfully as Dean rolled down the window. "It's Clem, from last night? The vampires had to go home because the sun started coming up but I stuck around just in case."

When Dean blinked at him stupidly, Clem chortled. "Yeah, I tried to tell you! Interdimensional alcohol punches a lot harder than regular alcohol but you were really, really insistent."

Bits and pieces of the night before started floating back. After wrapping his wounds, Dean had found a bar. A _strange_ bar. The proprietor had looked human but most of the patrons definitely did not. He vaguely remembered getting into a brawl (his bruised knuckles confirmed it) and then getting lots of kudos for beating the thing down. "Why do I remember singing?" he muttered.

"Oh, _that_!" Clem laughed again. "Man, we had such a good time. Karaoke, drinks, kitten poker… By the time we were all ready to call it quits the vampires wanted to turn you so that you guys could have fun forever!"

Alarmed, Dean clapped a hand on his neck and felt around. "Nah, don't worry," assured the demon. "I didn't let them do it. But you let me and my winnings sleep in the back seat so we're good!"

Another kitten hopped up to gnaw on the hunter's fingers. _Kitten poker_ … "Hey man, you wanna come in and collect these things be my guest."

"Thanks!" Clem opened the door and grabbed a box that had been sitting on the floor. He started collecting the cats. "You know, you kept going on and on about this stupid girl and how you're not good enough for her. I say she doesn't know what she's missing."

"Yeah, uh, thanks."

The door shut and Clem gave a final wave. "Was good hanging with you Dean Hunter!"

As the demon walked away, the elder Winchester finally took stock of his surroundings. Apparently they had headed for the local railway yard to sleep off their binge. Luckily all of the trains were currently stationary; Dean was certain that the clanging of a running car would make his head explode. He toyed with the idea of sleeping a bit more but changed his mind once he saw the plethora of text messages and voicemails from an annoyed Sam. Better to head to the Magic Box.

As he turned the key in the ignition, Dean tried not to think too hard what those kittens were for.

* * *

He made it there at about half past one after vomiting every single meal he'd ever eaten onto one of the train trestles. After one too many hunts that ended with them being spattered with blood and ichor and who knows what else, the Winchesters had made it a habit to keep a spare set of clothes in the trunk. Once Dean was certain his stomach was done punishing him he changed. The old stuff went into the nearest pile of refuse.

When he walked inside the Magic Box, the bell was unnaturally loud. Anya rang the register for a customer and something stabbed the hunter's inner ear. He grabbed his head and nearly fell at the two-step incline in the middle of the store. Finally, miles later, he arrived at one of the reading table's chairs and slumped over onto the table. A morose Willow stared at him and asked, "Are you okay?"

"No," he groaned out. "Are _you_?"

"Tara and I had our first fight."

With a tremendous effort Dean lifted his head. "Really? How long you two been going out?"

"'Bout a year."

"And this is your _first_ fight?"

"Yeah." The young witch let out a tremendous sigh.

"Wow," Dean commented before bonking his head back down.

"Mr. Winchester," admonished an approaching Giles loudly and pitilessly, "I _dearly_ hope you didn't drag Buffy along for whatever malignant activity put you in this state."

The hunter slowly put his hands on his ears and faced the tabletop. "Kidden poger," he mumbled at the wood.

The Watcher mercilessly dropped a small stack of books onto the table causing Willow to jump and Dean to jerk upwards. "If you're going to be lallygagging about my store then you might as well be _useful_. Back door behind the register. Please see if any of our shipments have arrived."

With a monumental heave Dean headed for the requisite door. He couldn't blame the man for being angry, but he was still too hungover to clarify his ignorance regarding Buffy's whereabouts. As Giles leaned over and softly comforted Willow, the hunter opened the back door…

…And one of Glory's scabrous lackeys fell inside.

Instinctively the hunter stomped on the thing's head. Giles calmly walked over, adjusting his glasses. With an astonishingly swift change of character the Watcher grabbed the front of the creature's robes and angrily hauled him back towards the reading table. Dean stared, still holding the door handle, as the elder man dumped the thing into a chair.

As the hunter calmly shut the door, Anya and Willow rushed over to the Watcher and stared, baffled. Dean walked over to join them as it began proclaiming, "No matter what you do or say, it is nothing to what the most magnificent Glorificus has subjected me to! I will speak nothing that will prevent our most glorious god from doing her great works!"

"May I?" Dean asked Giles politely.

"By all means," came the reply.

Dean punched it in the face. It squealed and clutched its broken nose before continuing to rant. "Beat me to your heart's content! My tongue shall never betray the most beautiful one!"

The two men looked at each other, animosity temporarily shelved. They knew what needed to be done but were reluctant to start with the young women looking on. "Anya," Giles instructed, "please retrieve the twine and whatever other binding materials you can find behind the counter. Willow, would you lock the front door?" They hurried away to complete their tasks and froze after hearing a crunch and a scream. When the the pair looked back, the creature was clutching the chair bottom, terrified. Dean was leaning against the table, arms crossed and bearing a smug expression, and Giles was cleaning his glasses.

"What was that?" asked Anya.

"Changed his mind," the elder man said calmly as he replaced his spectacles.

"Nothing I say will help you!" the minion cried, fearfully looking from the hunter to the Watcher. "The great Glorificus in her infinite wisdom knows that none of the Slayer's _oldest_ associates will tell her who the Key is. There are others who will give her what she needs! We have already given her the giant for interrogation, the most intelligent one will retrieve the witch herself!"

Dean and Willow looked at each other, horrified. "Sam," the elder Winchester whispered.

" _Tara_."

Despite loud calls for discretion from Giles, the two ran out the door. Dean sat in the Impala and revved the engine. Willow grabbed hold of the driver's side door and screamed, "Wait!"

Impatiently Dean snapped, "What?"

"Take me to the university first, _please_! And-and-and afterwards all three of us can go to get Sam."

"If that bitch has my brother–"

"Do you even know where Glory lives? I do."

Frustrated, the elder Winchester swore loudly and slammed a hand on the steering wheel. "Get in. _Now_."

* * *

It was around noon when Sam finally woke up. He lifted his sore head and found himself bound hand and foot to a chair in the middle of an opulent room. Strangely, the hunter swore he could smell chocolate.

A toe nearly manicured in blood red polish tousled the hair by his ear. "Mmm," Glory moaned. "You know, a lot of things in this dimension are stupid and boring, but chocolate-covered strawberries are just _divine_!"

Sam risked jerking his head out of the way and spotted one of the ugly minions incongruously wearing pink oven mitts and holding a steaming bowl of chocolate. Another one had a silver platter full of plump, red strawberries, each with a thick metal skewer. As he watched, Glorificus took a berry, dipped it into the chocolate, and took a bite that the hunter assumed she meant as sensuous. Knowing what he did about the Hellgod's true nature, it merely looked grotesque.

"Now _you_ ," she said as she tossed the remainder of her strawberry carelessly aside, "are even more delicious. If, you know, I though fuzzy little cockroaches were yummy." Glory straddled Sam's lap and pinched his cheeks. "So tell me, _cute widdle bug_ , which one of you is the Key?"

"Go to hell," the hunter snarled. The Hellgod backhanded him.

While his vision cleared, Glorificus stood and paced. "See, I would actually _love_ to go! I'm sure it's much more like my own hell dimension, all fiery and full of torture and blood and fun. But no, because you jerks won't give up my Key I'm _stuck_ here." She walked over to the creature holding her strawberries. "So! You want me gone just as much as _I_ want me gone." Alarmed, Sam watched her pull a berry off what turned out to be a large, sharp needle. The Hellgod twirled it between her fingers as she walked back and knelt in front of him. "You got an answer for me yet?"

When her captive merely glared, Glory grasped the makeshift spear and stabbed it through his leg. Sam yelled and then gritted his teeth when the Hellgod began twisting it in the wound, grating the metal against his bone. "We're wasting time here!" she complained.

Sam's breathing became heavy and ragged from pain. "I've… said no… to Lucifer. What makes you think–AGH!–What… What makes you think…" He swallowed and stared obstinately into the Hellgod's eyes, "I'd tell you _jack_?"

Angrily, Glory tore the skewer out of the hunter's leg and started pacing again. "Why? What is wrong with you people? The Key is mine, _mine_! If I have to tear this town apart, if I have to break every single one of you to find it, _I will!_ " She began tearing at her curls. "It's just too much. Too much, too much. Need the Key, time is coming, need need _need_!"

Thoroughly nonplussed, Sam watched her collapse to her hands and knees. She continued a steady stream of meaningless babble as her two lackeys dropped their burdens and rushed to her side. "Oh great one, please, you must eat!"

"Yes, our most glorious god! Please!"

Panting and sweating, Glorificus looked up at Sam through a curtain of mussed curls. She stood on shaky legs and, with her creatures' aid, staggered over to once again sit on his legs. The younger Winchester struggled frantically against his bonds, certain he was about to be horribly lobotomized.

The physical sensation of having Glory's fingers enter Sam's skull was minor, akin to a light pressure against his skin. But as those spiritual tendrils began tearing out pieces of his soul, the agony and terror enveloped his _entire_ being and he couldn't hold back his screams. He desperately tried to form a coherent thought and it slipped away, instantly buried under visions of Lucifer, of the _Cage_ , of Dean being ripped apart by Hellhounds, of Dean screaming as he was injected with sanctified blood, of Dean's _black eyes_ , of Cass and dad and _Bobby_ and Ellen and Jo and _Jess_ and mom…

* * *

"…Black eyes, they all have black eyes…"

Glorificus stood then vigorously shook out her fingers, disgusted. " _Yuck!_ It was like eating mushed up crackers or something. How many times has that man been broken and put back together? It's like someone kept repairing his head with duct tape and superglue."

The Hellgod headed for the vanity to fix her hair. As she sat, she announced instructions to her supplicants. "Throw that thing out. I need to go and find someone to get the taste off my tongue.

"Now. Where did you say the witch was headed…?"


	16. Part II: Chapter 16

They were too late to save Tara.

Dean ignored stop lights and stop signs, the Impala screeching its way around corners. It was pure luck that they met no law enforcement. When they were closer to the university the crowd and the traffic thickened and it became impossible to charge through with the car. Dean parked illegally and the two of them sprinted into what appeared to be some sort of college fair.

They stopped, breathing hard, and looked about. " _There_ ," said the hunter. He pointed between a booth exhibiting a Chinese dragon dance and another selling potstickers to where Tara was sitting on a bench. Willow's breath caught in a terrified sob; sitting beside her lover was Glory, her fingers laced tight with the other witch's, a predator's smile on her face. Dean started shoving his way through the thick crowd while Willow followed close behind calling half-completed incantations and curses.

By the time they fought through, the Hellgod was gone, and so was Tara's sanity.

At the hospital, Dean placed a few calls. They were shortly joined by Buffy and Xander. Dawn, explained Buffy, had been left in Spike's care and the two of them had headed literally underground.

Dean started to apologize or reprimand to the Slayer, he wasn't sure which. "Hey, look–"

"Don't," interrupted Buffy quietly. "Just… don't. Not right now."

The hunter sighed as Willow and the doctor discussed treatment. It turned out that Tara had cut all ties from her family for reasons that Dean was told were "complicated." Her girlfriend and her friends were quite happy to fill in the gap. With that in mind, the hospital staff were willing to overlook the lack of legal ties or shared blood in order to keep their patient safe. It also prevented their overflowing psychiatric ward from bursting at the seams. Willow was going to have her hands full keeping up with Tara's medications and making sure her girlfriend didn't injure her broken hand any further.

Dean got the impression that Willow and Tara's wellbeing was well out of his hands and finally allowed himself to worry about his brother. He paused in the midst of pulling out his cell phone as a familiar voice drifted in from a nearby hallway. "Sammy?" he called as he followed the sound.

The closer he got, the more worried he became. It sounded as if his brother was in some kind of melee. Not only that, but as Dean started to understand some of the words they were making less and less sense. Dread skittered up his spine.

When he rounded the corner he saw that his guess wasn't far from the truth. Sam was partially strapped to a gurney, flailing and shouting, while four burly orderlies attempted to tighten down his restraints. A frustrated doctor was trying her best to get in with a syringe. Dean surged forward and a nurse stopped him. "Sir… _sir_! You'll need to find another way around. He's very dangerous–"

He stabbed a finger past the woman. "That's my _brother_!"

"Okay sir, the doctor will have some questions for you but until they get him sedated you really shouldn't get too close."

" _What the hell is wrong with him?_ " Dean shouted at the hapless woman.

The men had finally gotten the younger Winchester locked in but his voice was still going strong. "Black eyes! You all have _black eyes_! I need to say yes! Lock me back in, it's important! _Michael_ has all the cards!" As the orderlies held down his shoulders, the doctor approached and administered a sedative. Slowly both Sam's ramblings and physical struggles ceased.

"Oh God," whispered Xander as he walked up from behind. "I-I heard you shouting. Is that–?"

"Yeah." Since the nurse had abandoned him to talk to the doctor, Dean rushed to his brother's side. "Sam? Sammy? Talk to me, man. What happened?"

The younger Winchester looked at him, puzzled. "The fingers are red, then the _eyes_ are red. _You_ know him, he's two people sometimes he's three?"

Dr. Park approached as Sam was wheeled away. "Nurse Barrows says you're his brother? Can you answer a few questions for me?"

Despondent, Dean stared at the empty corridor. "Uh… Yeah. Sure."

"I'll go tell the others," said Xander gently. "Don't worry, we'll figure this out." The young man gave Dean a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before hurrying back to the others.

* * *

"Sam too?" Buffy whispered.

"Yeah, joined the brain-sucked club," Xander whispered back. Willow was inside the adjacent room holding her girlfriend, crooning and patting her head. "Listen, I don't think Dean is taking it too well."

"I can't worry about _him_ , I've got Willow! The doctor said that Tara has to stay here for a night and I told Will she could stay with me."

Xander looked over Buffy's shoulder. "Speaking of which, where is she?"

The Slayer swiveled around and was surprised to see only Tara, groggy under the influence of some sort of sedative. Her lover was gone.

"Oh no."

* * *

They met in an adjoining corridor. Dean was in the process of storming back to the Impala and he was furious that his path was blocked. The expression on his face left no doubt to his intentions.

"I'm coming too," Willow declared.

"Fine."

"We need to make one stop."

* * *

Buffy and Xander ran out of the hospital just in time to see the Impala screeching out of the parking lot. "I'll drive," Xander said as they jogged to his car. "We need to catch them before– _oh come on_!" He walked around his vehicle, fingers gripping his hair, and gaped at the punctured tires. "You tell Dean he's gotta pay for these!"

Exasperated, the Slayer searched around, hoping that there might be an abandoned bicycle, a vehicle with the keys left in the ignition, something, _anything_ that could make traveling faster. When nothing presented itself, she decided, "The Magic Box isn't that far. You call triple-A then check on Tara and Sam. I'm going to let Giles know what's going on."

"Got it."

Xander pulled out his cell phone and Buffy sprinted away.

* * *

Giles and Anya were in the middle of closing up the store when Willow burst inside. Dean was close on her heels. "Willow?" queried a baffled Giles. "Is Tara all right? What's going on?"

The young witch ran towards the back and hurried up the ladder to the area that held the inventory too dangerous for the general public. She began flipping through the stacks. "Willow," the Watcher said cautiously. "I understand you're upset but you need to stop and think for a moment."

Finally, Willow tossed down onto the reading table an ancient black leather tome that was held closed by a formidable lock. In large ornate letters the cover spelled, " _Darkest Magick_." The witch then quickly descended and grabbed the nearest heavy object, a black marble orb. Without a word, she began cracking it against the clasp.

"Hey!" objected Anya. "That's expensive!"

Angrily, Giles started towards the table. "No, Willow, I _strictly_ forbid–" He was brought up short by a loud click. Dean and the barrel of his Colt .45 were suddenly in the Watcher's way.

Anya ducked behind the counter. "Giles…?"

Giles took a few steps backwards and slowly lifted his hands. "It's all right Anya," he responded calmly while still eyeing the gun. "If you would, please, text Xander and ask him what's going on?"

From behind Dean both the orb and the lock shattered. A wild wind swept through the shop and rifled the pages. The young witch closed her eyes, fingers over the flying parchment and head thrown back. After the last page, the back cover plopped shut by itself and Willow opened her eyes.

The gentle green orbs had turned _black_.

"Let's go," she ordered quietly. Dean let the gun drop but didn't put it away as the vengeful pair left the shop.

"Damn," Giles cursed as he flipped through the now blank pages of one of the most substantial texts on black magic. "Anya, anything?" He slammed the book closed.

Worriedly, the ex-demon stared at her phone. "They found Sam at the hospital. Glory got him too."

The Watcher now comprehended the homicidal rage in the elder Winchester's eyes. He also understood one very important thing. "They're going to get themselves killed."

* * *

The Slayer nearly screamed when she saw the Impala driving away once again. She ran into the shop and saw Anya clumsily trying to comfort Giles as he sat at the reading table with his head in his hands. "What happened?"

"Willow erased a book and Dean had a gun," explained the ex-demon.

"I'm afraid the two of them have gone after Glory," Giles added. "Willow took in a formidable amount of dark power but I fear it won't be _nearly_ enough to defeat the Hellgod."

Buffy clutched her head for a moment, frustrated. "Giles, I need you to drive me to Glory's mansion. Anya, can you go to the hospital and help Xander?"

"Buffy," her Watcher said quietly, "there's no need for you to take responsibility for everything."

"Yes, there is," she countered. "Tell me, who else is going to go? Huh? Two of the _most important people_ in my life are running into a suicide mission and there's no one else around to stop them!"

Giles paused, unsure if Buffy realized where she had categorized Dean. Doubtful, as she was still waiting for his response. With appalling timing the young woman was falling for the hunter. The Watcher sighed and nodded. "All right, let's go."

* * *

Dean had looked hard at Willow's new eyes, but as he had been with her the whole time and hadn't seen any plumes of smoke hurtling down her throat he knew that whatever had happened to her didn't involve possession. If it made her powerful enough to take the Hellbitch down he had no objections.

Night had fallen by the time they arrived at Glory's mansion and most of the lights in the expansive home were lit. Several shuffling figures could be seen on both floors while a lithe one gesticulated on the upper one, presumably giving the others orders.

Dean parked the Impala across the street. While the hunter popped the trunk, Willow headed towards the entrance. The hunter checked the .45, grabbed a shotgun and extra shells, and followed.

The double front doors burst open at a flick of the witch's wrist. The expected minions rushed forward to repel the intruders with daggers and axes. Willow uttered an incantation and the weapons grew blistering hot. Once they were dropped, another spell lifted the blades into the air and plunged them through the bodies of their wielders. The few remaining, those without armaments, were felled by the hunter's handgun.

They went up the spiral staircase. Another scabrous creature appeared and Dean put a bullet between its eyes. Once they were at Glory's bedroom, Willow moved to one side to prepare a spell and the hunter kicked open the door.

Warned by the noise of the downstairs massacre, the Hellgod stood in the middle of the room, hands on her hips, her mouth twisted into mocking grin. Dean promptly cocked the shotgun and emptied it at her chest. The force of the firearm was enough to push her back a few steps, but when the smoke cleared she was unblemished.

" _Again_ with the dress!" Glorificus cried as she looked down at the ruins of her clothing. She stomped towards the hunter, grabbed his lapels, and threw him across the room. As he crashed into a wall, she smirked and asked, "Did you _really_ expect that to hurt me?"

"No," Dean grunted as he pushed himself up, "but she might."

Glory whipped around to behold a black-eyed Willow at the doorway, her hands crackling with bright blue lightning as she floated a foot above the carpet. With her lips curled into a snarl, the witch thrust her hands forward. Bright, jagged lines of power arced out and engulfed her enemy from head to toe.

And the Hellgod screamed.

* * *

The brakes on Giles' BMW screeched as he stopped a handspan away from the Impala. He gave the other car a considering look, scrabbled under his seat, and brought out a screwdriver and a large, thin rod. The Watcher then got out and started jiggling the tools into the lock of the Winchester's trunk.

A confused Buffy exited from the passenger side and asked, "What in the world are you doing?"

With a harsh _clunk_ the door opened. Giles rummaged about the weaponry and grabbed a large knife. "Would you like anything?" he inquired politely.

The Slayer looked inside and shook her head. The elder man then shut the trunk and placed his tools back in his car. Astonished, Buffy asked, "How did you know how to do that?"

"Do you want me to tell you every sordid detail of my criminal past or should we get going?"

Six shotgun blasts traveled down from the mansion's open front door. The Watcher and his Slayer glanced at each other and rushed in.

* * *

Though now imbued with a vast amount of dark power, Willow could have never mastered its use in a single afternoon. The electrically charged attack was started to blossom out of control and she threw her hands down to dispel the lightning before it could consume them all. She fought to regain her breath as Glory shook her mane out and laughed.

"Woo!" the Hellgod exclaimed. "Actually felt that! I bet _you'll_ feel this," she mocked as she took two long steps forward and backhanded Willow out of the air. The young witch flew and slammed into the side of the bed.

Dean took the opportunity to withdraw the angel blade that was secreted inside his jacket. If it killed angels and demons, it _might_ do for a god. He rushed forward. Glory casually turned, grabbed the hunter by the jaw and wrist, and looked admiringly at the blade. "Aww, I always wanted one of these. Thank you!"

A slight squeeze of her fingers and the stiletto fell to the ground. Dean swung his free hand in a wild punch that did absolutely nothing and ended up being body slammed onto the floor. Both of Glory's grips tightened and the hunter grunted in pain. Before she could crush his head, a chair hit her in the back.

From where she was crumpled, Willow was calling spells as fast as she could. Other chairs, the mirror, the armoire, and every piece of bric-a-brac in the room all came flying over to pummel the Hellgod. Since being knocked about loosened her grip, Dean scuttled away and went back for his shotgun. He reloaded as fast as he could.

Willow was down to the last moveable object, a small decorative table, which Glory batted away contemptuously. She lifted the witch up by the front of her blouse and rammed her up against the wall. With her power finally expended, Willow's eyes had returned to their normal green. Condescendingly, the Hellgod asked, "Are we done with this little temper tantrum?"

Bereft of mystical energy, the witch spat in her face.

Incensed, Glory bent down and picked up a sharp shard of wood broken from one of her many overly ornate pieces of furniture. She grinned maliciously. "I know this works on vampires, but would it work on _witches_?"

A hand grabbed the stick and pulled. "I dunno," Buffy answered, "will it work on _gods_?"

The Slayer used the momentary advantage that surprise gave her and smacked Glory in the face with the debris. While the Hellgod reeled in shock, Buffy pulled her friend away and shoved her towards the door. "Out! Out out out _out_!"

" _No!_ She–"

As Dean started firing again, drawing the Hellgod's attention, the Slayer snapped, "I know what she did! But if we don't get out right now she is going to _kill you_!" When Willow's expression remained angry and stubborn, Buffy quietly added, "Will, Tara needs you. _I_ need you."

Tears filled the witch's eyes. She nodded and took Giles' hand when it was offered. The two of them fled down the spiral staircase.

In the meantime, Dean had expended his shells. He dove for his angel blade and swung it at the advancing Hellgod. She smacked his hand away and reached down for his neck. At the same moment, Buffy threw a downwards kick at Glory's lowered head. The Hellgod fell to the ground, unbalanced by her bent-over position and her high heeled shoes. The Slayer then helped Dean to his feet.

"That. Is. _IT!_ " Glorificus shrieked as she scrambled to her feet. In a fit of pique she put her fist through the nearest wall.

Buffy and Dean backed away as Glory advanced. The hunter glanced behind them and muttered, "Window." The Slayer nodded and they sprinted to the glass. As they burst through, she grabbed his lapels and twisted so that she took the brunt of the landing. They crashed into an evergreen tree, slowing their fall, then landed hard on a mound of dirt and leaves, one on top of the other. Stunned, they lay there trying to regain their breath, fearfully waiting to see if the Hellgod followed. Instead of pursuit, however, there was only the faint sound of shrieked threats.

Dean looked down at Buffy and swallowed, uncomfortably aware of their compromising position. He hoarsely asked, "You all right?"

"Yes," she whispered, just as nervous.

Despite the monster yelling at them, despite the pain and fright of falling out of the window, lying entangled under a tree and the moonlit sky sparked the yearning in both their hearts. Dean lowered his head a fraction, Buffy began to close her eyes… then something rustled in the brush. The hunter rolled away then crouched, angel blade prepped. He sighed in relief when Giles and Willow burst from the foliage.

The new arrivals helped Dean and the Slayer to their feet. When Buffy looked up, perplexed, her Watcher explained, "Willow put a shielding spell around the window. Glory can't exit that way but as soon as she's done having her fit she'll realize she can just walk out the front door. I suggest we leave. _Now_."

"No arguments here," Dean muttered while picking a piece of bark out of his jacket.

The group rushed to their cars and peeled off, Glorificus' promises of retribution echoing down the empty street.


	17. Part II: Chapter 17

Everyone except for Dean was in the BMW as they raced around the town. In order to prevent possible pursuit they circled and backtracked before finally ended up at Kingsman's Bluff Cemetery.

As soon as Dean got out of the Impala, Buffy decked him.

The hunter fell hard onto his side then rolled over on his back groaning. She'd put half of her Slayer strength into the punch and regretted not putting it all. Thoughts of ardent encounters at the feet of fragrant trees were gone; the drive had given her enough time to remember what he had done in the past twenty-four hours including acting like an ass after they'd kissed, taking Willow on this maniacal revenge trip, and most importantly…

"Never, _ever_ point a gun at my friends again."

"Buffy," Willow said softly as she placed a hand on her friend's shoulder, "it was my fault."

"I dare say a good amount of it was," added Giles as he started to help the elder Winchester back to his feet.

A twig snapped and the undergrowth nearest the graveyard rustled. The group (sans a dazed Dean) froze then sighed in relief. The pair of figures that materialized out of the darkness turned out to be only Spike with Dawn at his heels. He looked at the downed hunter, amused. "What, did the wanker go and kiss her again?"

"Wh-What?" stuttered a shocked Giles. He released his hold on Dean. The hunter collapsed back onto the cement.

Flustered, Buffy tried to explain. "It was… there was… the Byzantium guys showed up and-and-and fighting? There was fighting. And a kiss! Only one! And-and then he left. No wait, I left. Because he's a chicken." She folded her arms and waited. Certainly everything was now clear. There was really no call for the others to be giving her those looks and she promptly said so.

During her recitation the hunter had managed to regain his composure and clamber mostly upright. As he straightened he gave a clearer account of the previous night. "Dudes in armor showed up. Then, you know, what douche-vamp said." When Giles glared the hunter raised his hands defensively. "Hey man, it was a mutual thing."

"'Mutual'?" the elder man asked disbelievingly. "May I remind you that you are _considerably_ older than she is and perhaps should have exercised some self control?"

"'Self-control'? Listen here, Jeeves, which one of us just took her anger out on my face?"

"I assure you it was well-deserved! Furthermore-"

"What are you talking about, 'furthermore'? There ain't no ' _furthermore_ '! There's nothing left to be said!

"Yes, there bloody well is!"

The pair began shouting at one another as the girls stared, dumbfounded, and Spike tried to keep a straight face. He may not have intentionally let slip what he had so enviously spied upon but he was more than willing to be entertained by the consequences.

The vampire was denied a properly good show when Buffy stepped in; the two men had closed in on one another and were on the verge of physical blows. She squeezed in between them, put her hands on their chests, and _pushed_. Giles went stumbling backwards towards the cemetery's wrought-iron fence and Dean bumped into his car.

"This stops _now_ ," she uttered menacingly. First Buffy faced her Watcher. "Giles. I'm an adult. I can make my own choices. Granted this one might be _really stupid_ but still, it's _my_ stupid choice to make. Dean," she said, turning towards the hunter, "you hurt me. A lot. But whatever this is, it isn't going to be _anything_ if Glory gets to any more of us. She already got Tara. And your _brother_." The Slayer regarded the entire group. "Right now, we need to figure out where to go and what to do. When we're done, when Dawn is safe, we can figure out… other things."

Silence descended as everyone valiantly attempted to formulate ideas. Spike lit up a cigarette and Dean rubbed the growing bruise on his cheek. Suddenly, Willow said, "Sunnydale High School." Her hands flapped excitedly as she repeated, " _Sunnydale High School!_ Riley hid out there from the Initiative! We-we could set up a camp, hole up there with Tara and Sam! And Glory doesn't know we'd be there, right?"

"Okay, good," sighed Buffy. "That should work for now. Will, can you call Xander, let him know what's going on and that we're all right? The rest of us need to go get supplies."

Dean started to offer to help. "You want me to-"

" _I'll_ drive Buffy and Dawn," interjected Giles. "Willow, go with Mr. Winchester to Tara's. I'm certain it would help keep her calm if she had some personal effects when we retrieve her from the hospital."

The hunter rolled his eyes and jerked his chin at the vampire. "What's Bieber gonna do?"

"Low blow, mate," Spike muttered, self-consciously running his fingers through his hair.

"Get a vehicle," Buffy ordered. "Something big enough for all of us, just in case. And make sure you can be in it when the sun's out."

Everyone went silent and still again, absorbing both the day's events and their given instructions. The Slayer lifted her hands and dropped them in exasperation. "Well?"

The group dispersed…

…And their hidden observer slunk away.

* * *

The two in the Impala were quiet except for Willow's occasional directions to the university. Once inside Tara's dorm, the witch grabbed her girlfriend's backpack, dumped the now useless school supplies and textbooks onto the floor, and began filling it with clothing. Feeling useless, Dean stood at the doorway with his hands in his pockets juggling his thoughts between Buffy, Sam, and the throbbing lump on his face. "Hey, look," he finally said, "I'm… I'm really sorry, you know. I shouldn't've gone."

"I think if you weren't here I would have gone anyways." Willow gave the hunter a reassuring smile. "There's nothing to be sorry for. Maybe the two of us being together means neither of us died."

"One way of looking at it."

The witch carefully packed a few more things, small knickknacks and a framed photo of the couple smiling beatifically, then zipped up the bag. She stood up and spotted the dreary expression on Dean's face. "Do you need a hug?"

Alarmed, the elder Winchester held his hands out defensively. "Uh-uh. I don't hug."

"Yeah, I figured you didn't," she scoffed. With an exaggerated masculine pat on the hunter's shoulder, Willow deepened her voice and proclaimed, "There, there. Everything will be all right."

They looked at each other and the catastrophes of the past several hours slowly sank in. Willow's lip began to quiver. In a rush, Dean pulled her into his arms. They ended up clutching each other in a desperate need for comfort; the person they loved most in the world had been hurt, had been _violated_ , and the monster responsible had so far proved to be appallingly invulnerable. "Oh God," Willow cried, "what if we can't beat her? What if we never get them back? What if–"

"Hey, no, none of that" objected Dean as he gripped the witch's shoulders and pushed her slightly back. "Me and Sammy have both _literally_ gone to Hell and back for each other. We're going to fix them. This bitch'll be dust and they're going to be back to normal no matter what, even if I gotta kneel to Lucifer and ask him for a favor."

"That's… probably not a good idea."

"Yeah, he's kind of a douchebag. We better get going."

As they were leaving the room, Willow's eyes widened. "W-wait, you were joking right?" She called as she chased after the hunter.

"Nope."

"So he's _real_?"

"Yup."

"Does he have horns and a pointy tail?"

"Nope."

"Can I meet him?"

"Not a good idea."

* * *

As they were packing Giles' BMW with blankets and sandwich supplies, the Slayer sighed. "Go on, say it."

"Say what, Buffy?"

"Tell me I'm stupid and this isn't the time to be obsessing about boys and that he's _way_ too old for me and… and he's too tall." She looked up at him expectantly.

"Actually," her Watcher responded as he adjusted his glasses, "after he and I had that rather vigorous conversation I've been thinking. You've had to grow up very fast these past few weeks, what with your mother's death and having to assume responsibility for Dawn. When was the last time you did something for yourself?"

"Does eating a tub of chocolate chip ice cream all by myself count?"

Giles blinked at her. "You ate–never mind. The point is, if you want to pursue this then I'll swallow my objections. _Most_ of them."

She shrugged. "Like I said, not until this is all over."

The Watcher gave her a concerned look. "Buffy, I'm worried about how much pressure you're putting on yourself. If the hunter offers you some measure of happiness–"

"Then what?" she asked brusquely. "I go run off with him and we have cute little hunter-babies together? Until I put Glory into the ground there's no room for _anything_ I want. Protecting Dawn is the only thing that matters."

Giles sighed as Buffy slammed close the trunk and headed for the passenger's seat. Of late he had begun to wonder how many of his Slayer's predecessors had collapsed under the weight of their destiny. It would explain why so many died young. There had to be _some_ way of alleviating the strain off of Buffy's shoulders, _something_ he could do that would allow the young woman to have at least some measure of normality and peace.

Unfortunately, no brilliant ideas came to mind.

* * *

The contract to bulldoze the remains of Sunnydale High School had been stuck in red tape for nearly two years. Mayor Richard Wilkins III had been fastidious in making sure the pedestal of his Ascension remained firmly in place as the town's center for secondary education. It just wouldn't do if the Hellmouth was covered by, say, a mall or a parking lot when having an assured source of human-based nourishment was far more vital.

During his century and a half term as town leader the Mayor had written bylaws, closed loopholes, and cemented legislation that made any attempt to change the school a legal quagmire. Exceptions could only be made by Wilkins himself. Since he was currently an enormous pile of rotted, burnt demonic flesh, the new mayor and his council were still stuck trying to make things work while adhering to the law.

As a result, the ruins were still standing, a crumbling testament to the bravery of the school's last senior class. Several areas, however, were still somewhat structurally sound as Riley Finn had discovered when on the run from the Initiative. Now it became home to six other refugees: Dean and Sam, Willow and Tara, Buffy and Dawn.

Against doctor's advice and after another shouting match Dean had taken his mumbling and addled brother out of the hospital. Before she would let them out the door, Dr. Park bodily blocked the exit and forced him to take a bottle of sedatives and another of anti-psychotics along with strict instructions on their implementation. She also pushed a cold pack on him when she spotted the bruise on his cheek. Once Willow had retrieved Tara the four of them headed for the school.

Buffy and Dawn had done their best to clean out an area that presumably was once a hallway of lockers. Sleeping bags and blankets were laid out and LED lanterns had been hung for when darkness fell. Dean and Willow placed their respective partners gently down onto the floor while Dawn passed out peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. When Tara refused to eat, the other witch began spoon feeding her applesauce instead.

"Not a chance," said Dean as Sam gave his brother a hopeful look. In response, the younger Winchester swung a fist. As it was a slow and clumsy one, Dean merely batted it away.

"I'll do it," offered Dawn at hearing Sam's whine. She tapped him on the shoulder and held up a filled spoon.

As her sister played nursemaid, Buffy caught the despair that momentarily clouded Dean's expression. Abruptly he cleared his throat and stood. "I'm, uh… I'm gonna go check on something." The elder Winchester disappeared into the ruins.

Not wanting to disturb what she assumed was a need for privacy, the Slayer turned towards Willow. "You doing okay?"

"Yup. I got her pills, and now she's eating. We got a place to stay and you guys are here with us. Whatever needs to be done we can do it." The witch placed a gentle hand on her girlfriend's cheek.

"The mice, they know things," Tara stated. "Moon things, _sun_ things."

"Of course they do," Willow replied and gave her lover a peck on the forehead.

"You're okay too?" Buffy asked her sister.

"I think so. I mean, I kinda need salami for this peanut butter but other than that I'm good. I kinda got the feeling that Dean isn't though."

The Slayer sighed. "Yeah, and ew–really?"

"See, the salami and the peanut butter are _salty_ , but–"

Whatever reasoning Dawn had for justifying her unique choice of ingredients went unsaid as the westward line of lockers and the wall behind them suddenly collapsed outward. The youngest Summers screamed and Tara buried herself into Willow's arms, shrieking in fright. The cause was readily apparent.

Glorificus stood on the rubble, backlit by the late morning sun.

"Found you!" she crowed. "Just how long did you think you were going to hide from me?"

As the Hellgod moved away from the entrance, the light shone on Dawn. Revolted, Sam scuttled backwards away from her. He pointed wildly and shouted, "It's green! It's shining _green_! What did you do with the girl? _Bring back the girl!_ "

Buffy and Willow stared at him in horror.

And Glory smiled.


	18. Part II: Chapter 18

A long, terrible minute passed. Buffy felt like she was moving in thickened air; that time had slowed so that she would be made to suffer this moment forever. Glory was stepping forward, her stiletto heels wobbling slightly over the rubble, ecstatic and triumphant. She headed unerringly towards a paralyzed Dawn, one hand outstretched. Willow was trying to form an incantation while pulling on Tara's hand as the addled witch desperately tried to flee. Sam did nothing but scream his brother's name over and over.

Buffy knew they were done, she had _failed_ , Dawn would die…

"Look out below!"

…Then Dean and a large portion of a second floor classroom came crashing down on top of the Hellgod.

The hunter fell hard onto his back then slid down the pile. He looked up then curled into a ball to protect his head as several more pieces of debris and a cloud of dust followed him. As they were all struck by coughing fits, the ruins trembled ominously. Dean clumsily got to his feet, ran and grabbed Sam's arm, then shouted, "Time to go!"

Without further prompting the group sprinted out of their erstwhile safehouse with Buffy in the rear. Just as she cleared the opening, Glory burst from her confinement. The resulting tremor spelled the last for whatever structures still held up the wreckage of Sunnydale High School. With a thunderous roar the entire structure collapsed on top of the Hellgod.

They paused to catch their breath and warily kept an eye on the rubble. Finally, Sam said, "The angels stole her eyes. They're for Lucifer's supper." He looked expectantly at his brother.

"Yeah, sure dude," replied Dean. He turned to Buffy. "We keep dropping buildings on her head she might start getting mad at us."

The Slayer rolled her eyes. "Anyone still have their phone?"

Dawn patted her back pocket and pulled hers out. "Me."

"Good. Call Spike and tell him to meet us in the alley behind the Magic Box."

"What are we going to do now?" queried a shaken Willow.

Buffy stared back at the school. "We run."

* * *

It was dark, _horrendously_ dark, wherever this was. A dim red emergency light still bravely flickered in the distance, but other than that there seemed to be nothing else to illuminate the surrounding area. Ben craned his head upwards and cringed when he saw the precariously latticed wreckage only a few feet above. Judging by the torn satin summer dress he was wearing he assumed Glory had gotten another structure dropped on her. That also meant his abhorrent other half was tangling with the Slayer again.

Ben crawled towards the light and prayed the roof there was more structurally sound. On the way he kicked off the heels; despite waking up wearing a pair more than once he still hadn't figured out how to walk in them. The high number of bent and broken pipes he passed gave him the impression that he was in someone's basement.

Claustrophobia crept in. He paused and leaned against the wall under the red light, his heart pounding and his breath coming short. Once the panic had receded, Ben looked around. In front of him lay a dirty, faded piece of paper. When he brought it up to his face he discovered it was the top of an essay by "Harmony Kendall" on " _Why Romeo was a Bad Boyfriend_." A teacher had scrawled a large red "F" at the top along with the words, "See me."

So he was in the bottom of the high school that had blown up. The question now became: how was he going to get out? Ben scanned the area. Nothing. He was in the only open area left. Desperately he patted around the dress. With a relieved sigh he discovered Glory's Swarovski crystal covered smart phone in a hidden side pocket. The screen was shattered but the device was still functional. There was a single bar of service and a sliver of battery left.

Instinctively, Ben started to call 9–1–1. Then he reconsidered and instead called one of Glory's lackeys. Either _they_ could dig him out or the bitch-god could reawaken and do it _herself_. He couldn't think of how to explain his circumstances to a normal set of emergency responders.

After he gave terse instructions to "Plook" the phone died. Ben tossed it off to one side and sat back to wait. This, unfortunately, gave him empty space to think. His thoughts drifted to his future, or more specifically his _lack_ of one. It looked like his career as a physician was over. Maybe when Glory had gone home and regained her full power he'd be obliterated and wouldn't have to worry about being a lackadaisical adult. Maybe he'd be burned off of her like a wart and would have to scavenge though the post-apocalyptic wasteland with the rest of the humans. Either way he would at _least_ know his future.

Ben sighed, realizing that this was the first time that he had considered Glory winning. Was her twisted psychopathy bleeding into his own psyche or was it his own wretched thoughts? Did it matter? He didn't ask for this; he was _stuck_ with this. Why shouldn't he go along with her? He should just let her get her Key, go home, and hope for the best.

Then his gut wrenched. After years of abiding by _primum non nocere_ he was trying to justify the murder of a little girl. He couldn't. Not yet. But the thought of contending with the Hellgod for the rest of his life drowned him in misery.

Ben drew up his knees, put his head down, and took the rare moment of privacy to cry.

* * *

"Run?" Xander inquired, amazed. "Am I hearing this correctly?"

Everyone but Spike was gathered in the somewhat pungent area between the Magic Box and the local clothing boutique. Dean was thanking the foresight he'd had to put Sam's medications in his pockets rather than his backpack as all of the items they'd planned on camping out with were lost. While the Sunnydale group discussed the change in tactics, the elder Winchester held a pill out to his brother and ordered, "Swallow it."

Sam promptly knocked it out of his hand. As he retrieved the pill Dean sighed. "Well, I didn't really wanna do it this way, but…"

With a quick swing of his arm he had the younger Winchester in a headlock. They circled for a bit, struggling and cursing, before ramming into the dumpster. Despite being moderately sedated, Sam's height was making subduing him difficult. "Black eyed pig!" he shouted. "Michael will eat your– _gk_!" His brother cut off the ranting by slamming hand and pill over Sam's mouth. The elder Winchester held him until he was certain the medication had been swallowed then released his hold. Sam then sat heavily on the ground and glared.

Dean dusted off his clothes then looked up. The others had fallen silent and were staring. "What?" he asked, bemused. "He wouldn't take his medicine."

"It was very entertaining," Anya offered.

As Giles rolled his eyes and Buffy scoffed, Willow walked up to Dean and said quietly, "I snuck Tara's into some candy."

"Huh. Probably would've been easier."

"Glory knows Dawn is the Key," Buffy stated firmly as she resumed their conversation. "I am not staying _anywhere_ near here when we haven't a single working plan to defeat her."

"So are we here to tell you goodbye?" asked Anya hopefully.

Giles peered knowingly at his Slayer. "We will need to go with you, am I correct?"

When she nodded, Anya cried, "Why? I like it here. It has my money and my apartment and my things."

Buffy sighed, exasperated. "Because if you stay, Glory will torture you or kill you to get to Dawn."

"Oh. I suppose those are good reasons."

"Then where are we going to go?" asked Xander.

"I-I don't know. We just need to _go_."

"Kansas," Dean interjected.

The others looked at him, baffled. "Because we're Dorothy?" asked Xander.

"Men of Letters Bunker, dickhead. Best supernatural protection possible."

"Yes, that could work," agreed Giles. "Although I'm not quite certain if they'll hold against a Hellgod. At the very least we may be able to look at their lore to see if there's anything helpful."

"Hey, if anything it's got a big-ass door."

Their discussion was stopped short by an obnoxious series of honks. Outside the alley was a dilapidated camper van, the windows blackened or blocked with aluminum foil. When Xander yanked open the side door, a grinning Spike said from the driver's seat, "Time to go, boys and girls!"

"What is _he_ doing here?" demanded Xander.

"We need someone strong," Buffy replied firmly. "He's coming."

"Yeah, but-"

" _No!_ He's coming! End of discussion!" The Slayer pushed Dawn up the stairs. Willow and Tara shortly followed.

Before he entered the questionable mode of transportation, Giles glanced at Dean. The hunter was eyeing the rusty vehicle with deep suspicion. "We'll follow, don't worry. Thank you for allowing us in your home."

The hunter shrugged. "Long as that thing actually makes it all the way there. C'mon, Sammy."

As the Winchesters headed for the Impala, the Watcher entertained a glimmer of hope. If the brothers had never shown up in the first place, they wouldn't have had a destination. The group might have been forced to wander aimlessly trying their best to stay one step ahead of a vicious Hellgod desperate to reclaim her power. The problem, in Giles' mind, was that the hunters had a powerful enemy of their own.

It was very possible that they were merely combining their problems rather than offering aid.

* * *

After a short conference, Xander also ended up in the Impala in order to take over driving in several hours. Dean had been outraged and argued, but after a furious ultimatum from Buffy he capitulated. Unlike the hunter's usual road trips there weren't going to be rest stops to sleep; the Slayer was planning on a continuous trip containing only the briefest of necessary pauses.

An hour later the mini-convoy was merrily sputtering its way across a back road near Interstate Highway 15. Shortly before departing, the elder Winchester had taken Willow's advice and wrapped a sedative into a ball of gas station jerky. As a result, Sam was lying across the back seat sleeping while Xander snored in the front. A disgruntled Dean inwardly cursed at the other vehicle's pace.

"Can't you go any bloody faster?" complained Spike as he hid from the early afternoon sun on the floor of the camper.

"No, because you chose a bleeding piece of _junk_!" Giles snapped from the driver's seat.

The two continued bickering, eventually resorting to English colloquialisms that the others assumed were insulting (Dawn promised herself to ask later why Spike called Giles a "muppet"). It made a sudden stop when Tara decided to peel off part of a window covering to watch the road and ended up shining sunlight onto the vampire. He let out a yell and threw up his arms while scrambling towards the back of the RV. The noise caused the addled witch to start wailing. Willow drew her into a hug and murmured, "It's okay, it's okay. Remember: don't touch the shiny."

"S'all right, love," added a shaky Spike as he gently palmed his reddened cheek. "Be good as new before you know it."

At the commotion, Buffy finally emerged from the back. She had sequestered herself since the trip began hoping the isolation would allow her to think more clearly and develop a more well formulated escape plan. Ten minutes later Dawn had foiled her intentions by joining her, desperately needing her big sister to confide her fears.

The teenager was miserable, certain the entire situation was her fault, that if she threw herself off a bridge then the whole issue of Glory getting her Key became moot. Buffy admitted that she was partially afraid of her sister doing exactly _that_. The Slayer also dreaded the possibility that one of the others would be hurt. The sisters assured each other that their worries were unfounded, that everything would turn out fine, and reaffirmed their love and support for one another. Thus, the others saw a calmer, more amiable Buffy enter the cabin. "Is everything okay?" she quietly asked. "How are you guys holding up?"

Willow gave her a reassuring smile. "We're fine. Spike just got a little owwie."

"What the devil…?"

The Slayer rushed up to the front where her Watcher was trying to peer through the heavily painted window. She could faintly hear Dean honking the Impala's horn and swerving wildly. His arm was out of the window, hand waving and trying to point backwards at the same time. Buffy ran to the back of the camper van and ripped off the foil covering the rear glass. "Oh God," she whispered.

It was the Knights of Byzantium. Buffy remembered that they had told her they were _legion_. She'd never believed them, but there they were.

An _army_ had come for the Key.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : The Latin phrase, _primum non nocere_ (first, do no harm), comes from the Hippocratic oath. The oath itself, I found out, actually varies a lot depending on where you study. However, it appears that this particular phrase exists in everyone's version regardless.

If anyone has studied medicine has critique for this, please feel free! ^_^


	19. Part II: Chapter 19

The first set of honks jolted Xander from his nap. When he complained, Dean simply said, "Look in the mirror."

The younger man peered out and was shocked to see men on horseback swiftly approaching the sluggish RV. "Did we enter the Wild West while I was asleep?"

"Try _Middle Ages_ ," the hunter corrected as he continued pressing the horn and waving out the window. "It's those Dicks of Byzantium. And when that stupid vampire blocked the windows he blocked the van's _rearview mirror_!"

"Crap, crap crap crap." Xander checked his cell, hoping to get a call through.

"Already tried that. No signal here. Handgun under the seat."

"What? _Me?_ I'm not a handgun guy! I'm not an _any-gun_ guy!"

"God, you freaking people and your freaking gun phobia. Hold on."

Taking his advice, Xander gripped the seat back and the open window as Dean pulled hard on the steering wheel. The Impala's wheels screeched on the asphalt and kicked up dirt as the car swiveled around. Once they faced the horsemen, the hunter stomped on the gas.

"Are you ramming the _horses_?" Xander shrieked.

"Nope. _Gimme the damn gun!_ "

The young man reached under his seat and felt around for requested firearm. When he met flesh, Xander shrieked and snapped back upright. Sam peered groggily at him then peered closely at the Smith & Wesson he held. He appeared to be scrutinizing the lettering etched into the side. Dean reached back, snatched it away, and proceeded to shoot at the approaching calvary while aiming the car between their ranks.

"Oh no, the horsies!" Willow cried as she peeped through back window. She banged on the glass in a futile attempt to get Dean's attention. " _Stop shooting the horsies!_ " A moment later she was yanked back by Buffy saving her from a spear that stabbed through the wall where the witch had been sitting.

The Slayer pointed at the table and looked at Dawn. "Under there, _now_!" she ordered. The youngest Summers grabbed Tara's arm and the two squeezed underneath. Anya and Willow, however, weren't interested in hiding. The former grabbed a frying pan and the latter rushed to the front of the vehicle to hurriedly consult Giles about spells.

"Come on now!" Anya shouted at the cavalry. "Spears stopped being a thing hundreds of years ago! I was there! Get with the new things like guns and rocket launchers!"

Dean had killed a few horses and their riders but most survived the attack of the vehicle-turned-battering-ram by simply scattering. As the Impala screeched around for another pass, two of the horsemen faced it and charged. One threw a spear which stuck in the glass and cracked a web across the windshield. The other drew up alongside and, to Dean and Xander's astonishment, leapt onto the hood and climbed to the roof. The hunter pointed his gun up and fired off the remainder of his clip. With a thump and the screech of metal on metal the armored man slid backwards, bounced off the trunk, and tumbled into the road. "Bye-bye!" Sam called cheerily as he waved to the body.

The remaining horsemen had nearly caught up to the camper. "Take over driving!" Dean shouted at Xander. The two men quickly and awkwardly exchanged seats.

Buffy watched a Knight grab the ladder on the back of their vehicle and proceed upwards. They warily listened to his steps when as much as possible to the floor when a sword jabbed through.

Another Knight burst through the side window feet first. Anya promptly smacked him in the face with the frying pan and proceeded to beat on his head mercilessly. Buffy grabbed the now unconscious intruder's sword from his back and popped the roof hatch. The opening gave her the opportunity to tap into her Slayer strength and leap up and out. Anya and Dawn then shoved the Knight back out the way he came. The younger Summers then made Giles aware that Buffy was fighting on the roof and to avoid any sharp movements.

The Slayer sliced across the Knight's chest and was annoyed when the man's armor protected him from a crippling wound. She recalled that sparring session with Dean (a lifetime ago) and adapted his technique of using the weapon more like a _dagger_ than a sword. A satisfying hiss of pain came from her opponent as she managed to stab the point of her blade partially through the chain links on his abdomen.

As Buffy ducked under a swing, she spotted a second Knight's head pop up from the ladder. With her initial assailant's aggression ramped up from the wound she'd scored there was no way to prevent Knight Number Two from joining in the melee. Then a gunshot rang out. The man jerked, blood running down from his chainmail hood, before falling backwards.

With Xander driving, Dean could reload his gun from their stash under the seat. He concentrated on firing at those that were trying to climb onto the RV, picking one after another off of their precarious perches. The only one he couldn't get was the Knight in furious combat with Buffy as their rapid moments made it questionable whether he'd hit _her_ instead of _him_. Whether or not more drastic measures would be necessary didn't matter as a second later Buffy deflected an attack then back kicked the man in the face. The camper hit a pothole as the swordsman was still dazed and he toppled off the roof. Buffy then pointed at Dean, screaming his name.

If it hadn't been for her warning, the hunter was certain the spear would have lopped his hand off. Instead, it slit a line across his forearm. His Smith & Wesson clanged off the passenger door before skidding away on the asphalt. The hunter withdrew into the car, cradling his wound. "Son of a _bitch_!"

"You gonna be okay?" Xander asked as he swerved around a riderless horse.

"It's not right, _it's not right_!" Sam cried as he clapped his hands over his ears. "Their black eyes made them set the table wrong!"

"Goddammit," cursed Dean as he ripped off his torn sleeve for a makeshift bandage. "Hurts but I'll be fine."

They looked at the camper van. Buffy was leaping back down the hatch as three Knights gained various footholds and began stabbing recklessly into the walls. Suddenly a small shockwave pushed out from the vehicle and they were all blown off. Xander searched about and discovered that the remaining calvary had either been downed or had retreated. He let loose a sigh of relief as he revved the Impala forward to position alongside the driver's side of the RV.

Giles glanced over and explained, "Willow utilized a spell, but she won't be doing another anytime soon." The witch was slumped down in the passenger's seat panting. She gave a jaunty little wave. "Xander," the Watcher continued carefully, "Anya's hurt."

"Oh God," the young man gasped. The Impala began to drift back and forth across the road as Xander simultaneously tried to drive and peer into the other vehicle. Dean grabbed a hold of the wheel and steadied their movement.

"Hey, _hey_!" the hunter barked as he snapped his fingers in Xander's eyes. "Focus! We need to find somewhere to stop."

"Okay, okay, yeah. I can do that."

"Jeeves," Dean called to Giles, "we're going to drive ahead and find someplace then double back."

"Very well. Do hurry."

The Impala roared off as Giles shouted to the back of the camper, "How is she?"

"Not good!" a muffled Spike answered as he ripped apart bedsheets for bandages. The sunlight now shone into the vehicle unimpeded and the vampire was trapped under a thick comforter. He began passing strips to Buffy, his hand smoking each time it left his inadequate shelter.

The others were frantically trying to do something for Anya. Dawn was holding her hands over the bleeding wound on the ex-demon's abdomen while Anya gasped and writhed in pain. Buffy then instructed her sister to sit her up as much as she could manage. The Slayer then set about to carefully and quickly wrap the cloth around Anya's belly and repeatedly told her, "It's okay, it's going to be okay."

The Winchester's car suddenly returned. It zoomed by, performed a u-turn, and drove up alongside again. "Abandoned gas and convenience store up ahead," said Dean. "Follow us."

* * *

The Holy Army of the Knights of Byzantium gathered on the side of the highway and took stock of their losses. Only half a dozen horsemen remained; the rest were dead or dying along the road along with their mounts. General Gregor thought this an acceptable loss for their first foray.

"You," he commanded, pointing at one of the uninjured cavalry, "scout ahead and see where the Slayer is taking the Key. Do not engage!" The Knight made the sign of the cross, saluted his General, and galloped off.

Gregor looked across his remaining forces and was pleased. A full platoon of archers, two of infantrymen, and a handful of clerics were at his disposal. Reports had come in of witchcraft being used and the General was thanking the Lord for his foresight in bringing the old men. Perhaps when they had eliminated the Key they could burn the woman as well.

With a gesture he commanded his men to march. Wherever the Slayer thought she was safe, she was wrong. The Lord would bless their search and would see to it that the Beast and its Key were cleansed from this earth.

* * *

They parked the vehicles at the back of the building in the faint hope that the approaching army wouldn't notice them. Dean kicked down the back door after retrieving his shotgun, a bottle of alcohol, and a med kit from the trunk. After ensuring that the place was empty and structurally sound, he waved the okay to the others.

Xander rushed into the van and shortly came back out with Anya in his arms. The rest of them followed. Spike was last, sprinting to the door yelling as his exposed skin smoked. Once inside, he shook flames off of one hand and slumped down against a wall asking for a cigarette. Dean then retrieved Sam before slamming the broken door closed and bolstering it with a heavy, rusted magazine rack. He left his brother in Willow's care and rushed over to check their surroundings through one of the front window's dusty blinds.

With a clangor, Xander swept miscellaneous debris off of a counter and laid an unconscious Anya down. Giles carefully cut through her blood soaked sheet-bandages with one of Dean's knives. The hunter tossed them the bottle of whiskey and the entirety of it was poured over the wound. Xander then held his girlfriend partially upright while the Watcher wiped her dry and swiftly applied a clean set of bandages.

"What the hell happened?" asked Dean.

"She pushed me out of the way," Dawn whispered as she approached. Tears were spilling down her cheeks. "I got too close to the wall and _she pushed me out of the way._ "

"That's my girl," said Xander proudly but shakily. "Always the hero."

"There," Giles sighed as he tied off the wrapping. "It's all we can do for now."

"Crap." Dean smacked the wall with an open hand and shouted, " _Saw you, asshole!_ " He turned towards the others. "Dude on a horse trying to be sneaky. He saw the cars."

"Buffy, what do we do?" Willow asked softly.

"I-I don't know," replied the Slayer as she paced between empty shelves.

"Anya is very seriously wounded," said Giles. "She's lost a lot of blood. We need to get her to a hospital."

"I know, I-I _know_ , but we don't know where we are, the Knights are coming…"

"She's dying," whispered Xander.

"We can't… we can't…"

" _She's DYING!_ "

Buffy paused at Xander's uncharacteristically belligerent tone. She looked around at everyone. "They're _coming_. Any of us leave, they're going to cut them down. None of us have cell service and the only payphone is broken _and_ it's outside. So if anyone's got any ideas other than shouting at me, now would be the time."

Silence descended, broken only by the quiet, nonsensical conversation Sam and Tara had started. The two were by turns giggling and sobbing while they spoke of "soon" and "dark." Willow gently patted their cheeks and stood up. "I'm going to shield the building. I don't think I can make it big enough to cover the cars so if anyone needs to get anything out of them, better do it now." She headed for what was once the shopkeeper's office to prepare.

"I'm getting more weapons," Dean declared. He moved the rack out of the way and opened the door.

"I'll go see if I can locate food and water," said Giles as he followed the hunter.

Buffy resumed pacing as Dawn hesitantly approached Xander. He was bent over Anya softly stroking her hair. "I'm so sorry," the girl whispered as she rubbed tears from her eyes.

"For what, Dawnie?"

"For-For this. For _everything_. If I weren't the Key, if-if I wasn't here…"

"No," Xander corrected, "don't say that. You wanna blame someone, blame Glory, blame the D&D rejects. It'll be okay." He gave Dawn a quick hug then leaned down and kissed Anya gently on the forehead. "It will."

A few minutes later there was a series of heavy thumps and then the sound of shattering glass. Giles returned holding perspiring bottles of water and a variety of unhealthy snacks. "Vending machines out back, still had a few things." He spread them out along an empty shelf. "There's still more. I'll be back."

The youngest Summers stepped in his direction, intending to help. She halted abruptly when Buffy hollered, "No! You can't go out there!"

"But–"

"I said _no_!" The Slayer momentarily gripped her hair. "Just… Just get some food and-and-and feed Sam and Tara." Dawn glowered at her sister, wiped tears from her cheeks, then took two bags of generic trail mix to feed the impaired duo.

Suddenly, Dean and Giles came running back in, the former with a duffle bag that clunked and rattled and the latter with a second armful of food and water. "They're here," the hunter said as he dumped his load onto the floor and again barricaded the exit.

The building rumbled ominously and a glimmering wave of energy emanated outwards. "What was that?" asked an alarmed Xander.

Willow walked back into the room patting dust off of her hands. "Shield's up. Nothing's getting in without my say-so." She spotted Dean pulling items out of his bag: a spray can, candles, matches, a beaten metal bowl, and a few small bags labeled with runes. "Ooooo, more spell work? Can I help?"

"Yeah, why not," he replied. "I'll tell you what to do while I prep the room."

Giles adjusted his glasses, torn between curiosity and apprehension. "Might I ask what you're doing?"

"Got an idea. Gonna call on a friend. Well, not _really_ a friend. Might decide to help the girl there with the right incentive. Or he might say 'screw you' and do whatever the hell he wants."

"Are you certain that's safe?"

Dean stood up and gave Willow the bowl and the ingredients. "Nope, but we're desperate." He handed Giles his shotgun. "Merry Christmas."

The Watcher expertly checked the ammo load and primed the lever. He smirked slightly at Dean's dumbfounded expression and said. "Thank you."

Xander was given the .45 Dean normally kept tucked behind his back. "Don't give me any crap," warned the hunter. He demonstrated how to hold it (with one hand on the trigger and the other underneath for stability) before handing it over. "Just point and shoot."

The young man nodded grimly. He gently stroked Anya's hair before joining Giles in watching the approaching army through the blinds.

Dean stopped at Buffy, who was staring at the ex-demon, troubled. "Hey, you gonna be all right?"

"Yes," she replied and gave him a shaky smile. "I think so."

"Good." He handed over the angel blade from his inside pocket. "Got a present for you too. No guns, right?" The hunter smirked.

The Slayer's smile became a fraction more steady. "No guns."

Dean and Willow disappeared into the office. Buffy joined her Watcher and her friend at the window and watched as the Byzantium army made siege preparations. Tents were built, horses hobbled, and discarded oil drums were set to light up the encroaching darkness.

One Knight, whose individualized dress apparently signified a high rank, was pressing a hand against Willow's shield. It vibrated outwards from his touch. He walked back and forth, discovered it extended a good ten feet from the building, and his face darkened. The Knight barked out an order and three ancient, robed men appeared. They said something that infuriated him, crossed themselves, and began chanting at the barrier.

* * *

"There," said Dean as he hopped down from a chair. He looked up at the mandala he'd spray painted onto the ceiling. "Hopefully that'll hold him."

"Hold who?"

"You'll see."

He'd been directing Willow while spraying and the bowl was ready and full of spell components. Candles were lit around another sigil underneath. Sam wandered to the doorway, but when he did nothing other than crouch down against the frame with his arms around his knees Dean let him be. "Ready?" he asked the witch.

"Satanic summoning ritual is a go," she replied.

The hunter chanted, then tossed a match into the bowl. Sparks and flames shot out, and when the smoke cleared a male figure stood before them. Willow gaped as it turned and uttered two simple words.

"Hello, boys."


	20. Part II: Chapter 20

"What's that?" whispered Willow.

"A demon," Dean answered.

"But… But it's just a short man in a suit."

"That hurts my feelings," said Crowley. "I'm all teary on the inside. I think I should leave and go write in my journal." He paused then looked up. " _Bollocks_." Irritably he asked, "What's all this about?"

"We need your help," Dean replied.

"And?"

"A-are you sure it's a demon?" Willow queried at the hunter. "I mean, look at him. He's just so… so scraggly. And pudgy."

"Hey, red," called the demon. When she looked, he uttered, "Boo," as his eyes turned crimson from sclera to iris. When Willow gasped he smiled maliciously before blinking again and returning his eyes to normal.

She focused on Dean again, terrified. "Is that Lucifer?" she asked in a small voice.

"No I am _not_ Lucifer you bint, and _you_ ," Crowley directed at the hunter, "still haven't told me _why I'm STUCK HERE!_ "

"His face," whispered a horrified Sam. "His _face!_ " He said louder. "What's wrong with his _face?_ "

The demon stared, perplexed, as the younger Winchester scrambled to his feet, backed up, and bumped into the door frame. "His _face!_ he cried. "The birds will tear it off and serve it to the dogs!" The addled hunter then bolted from the room.

"I'll go see to him," sighed Willow. Dean thanked her and she left the room casting wary glances back at the trapped demon.

"What's wrong with Ginormica?" Crowley asked. "Air too thin up there where his head's at?"

Before the hunter could answer, an irate Buffy stomped in. "What is going on in here? Who is that? Another angel?"

Crowley smirked at Dean. "Nice little harem you've got going on here. That what you been doing? Orgies and drugs? If you let me out I could show everyone what properly goes where. Maybe some new places besides."

" _Definitely_ not an angel."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Look Crowley, we need help with one of the others in there. She got stabbed."

"And? What do you expect me to do about it?"

"Fix it!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a _demon_ , you ass, not your _pet angel_ who, by the way, is _sitting on my THRONE!_ Now let me out of this bleeding trap so I can return to the business of getting. _It_. _BACK!_ "

"Throne?" queried Buffy.

"King of Hell, darling. Or _was_ until Moose and Squirrel here let _someone_ out of his Cage."

"Dammit, Crowley," cursed Dean, "we've got a _crusade_ outside and if they've got doctors they sure as hell ain't gonna let us borrow them." He folded his arms. "You know, I'm betting I am the _only one_ who can talk Cass into expelling Lucifer, so you want our help getting your damn kingdom back you gotta help _us_ right now!"

Crowley glowered as he considered the hunter's proposal. "Fine. I still can't heal the girl."

"Can't or won't?" angrily asked the Slayer.

" _Can't_. I'm not one of those pansy cloud squatters. I might do something about the tinmen at your door."

"'Do something'?" Buffy looked at Dean. "What does he mean, 'do something'?"

"It means I can make their inside bits their outside bits and you lot can go merrily on your way."

When Dean saw the Slayer actually considering the demon's macabre proposal he drew her aside. "You are not seriously thinking of letting him do this," he hissed. "Do you know how many people are out there?"

"Okay, how else do you suppose we can get Anya help?" she whispered back furiously. "Or get Dawn to safety? Or get _any of us_ out of here?"

"I think I've got a few ideas, but you gotta promise me two things. Don't make any deals with Crowley and keep that angel blade ready at all times. You know anyone that's a nurse? A doctor?"

"Yes."

"Good. Here's what we're gonna do…"

* * *

Buffy emerged from the office several minutes later, alone. "Where's Sam?"

Xander pointed to a storage room on the opposite side of the store. "Ran in there saying something about faces. Willow's with him. What's going on?"

The Slayer ignored the question and turned towards her sister. "Dawn, take Tara and go back there with Sam and close the door. Tell Willow we need her out here. Whatever you do _don't_ let them out. Keep them busy."

"Busy? Busy how?"

"Take some food, teach them the routine to 'Single Ladies,' _I don't know!_ Just do what I said!"

As Dawn gathered up chips and water, Giles asked, "Buffy, has someone else come to help? We can hear him from out here. Is it another angel?"

"No he is definitely _not_ an angel." She watched as Dawn, holding Tara's hand, closed the storage room door. Then the Slayer called back to the office: "Dean! Let him out!"

As Crowley watched, a smug smile set on his lips, Dean climbed up onto the chair once again and scraped away a small line of paint with a spare knife. The demon then sauntered for the doorway, hands in his pockets. "Try anything and you'll regret it," the hunter warned.

"I _love_ it when you take control," Crowley purred. "Makes me feel all tingly in my nether parts."

Buffy met them first, angel blade held in front of her. As he passed, Crowley dinged the tip with his finger and assessed the crowd. He dismissed Xander as non-threatening, eyed the Watcher more cautiously, then lifted his eyebrows when he spotted who was lying comatose on the display table. " _Anyanka?_ "

"What?" asked a startled Xander. "How does he–"

"Nah nah, never mind!" Dean quickly interjected. He started pushing the demon towards the blocked customer entrance. "You remember the plan?"

"Excuse me, but who is this?" Giles inquired as Willow emerged from the storeroom and shut the door. She eyed the demon nervously.

Spike emerged from two tipped display shelves where he had been rummaging for cigarettes. He gave Anya's prone form a hungry look then peered at the demon. "What's this then? He smells odd."

"Yeah? You smell like dust and desperation." Crowley turned towards the hunter. "What are you doing here with an old codger, a bunch of birds, and this idiotic soulless thing? Not to mention an old lay."

"Tosser," muttered Spike.

" _Excuse me?_ " Xander said furiously. He left his post on the blinds with the intention of acquainting the newcomer with his fist.

Crowley casually flicked his fingers and the young man flew back to the window and hung against the blinds, choking. When Spike surged forward to rescue him he received a similar treatment, only being deprived of air didn't bother him quite the same. Furiously, Giles lifted his shotgun, then found his arms wrenched sideways. The barrel swung over to Willow who lifted her hands and scolded, " _Giles!_ "

"It's-It's not me!"

"Crowley!" barked Dean.

The demon ignored him, clearly enjoying himself, until the tip of a celestial weapon pricked his neck. "Let. Them. _Go_ ," Buffy snarled.

"Spoilsport," grumbled Crowley. A moment later, Xander and Spike fell to the floor and Giles threw down his firearm.

"What the devil did you bring in here?" the Watcher demanded.

"One of _our_ demons," Dean answered. "Who's supposed to be out there _following the plan!_ "

"Fine," Crowley said. "Since you asked so nicely." The demon snapped his fingers and the boards blocking the front entrance fell off. "If whoever made the fancy magic bubble will kindly make me an opening once I need it…"

Willow glared. "A small, _pudgy_ opening."

The demon smirked and strolled out. Giles glowered at Dean who told him simply, "Desperate, remember?"

* * *

The Knights watched the approaching stranger with growing trepidation. He was dark haired, bearded, and wore an expression that could be best described as bored. His clothing was highly out of place: an expensive black suit, blood red silk tie, and no visible armaments. The man planted his feet at the edge of the magical shield and smiled genially. "My, _my_. What a gathering."

Most were nonplussed, but one of the clerics stepped forward holding an ornate cross in front of him. "I know what you are!" the old man cried in a quavering tone. "Begone, foul spawn of Satan!"

The suited man stepped back with narrowed eyes while the cleric continued blaring biblical rhetoric. Triumphantly, General Gregor shouted at the shuttered windows: "No matter what devils you conjure God shall protect us! He sees our crusade as holy and yours as _damned!_ See how weak your allies–" He cut off, interrupted by the sound of fingers snapping. A grisly crunch immediately followed. When the General looked towards the source he found the stranger with his hand poised in the air. The cleric was slumping down to the ground, his head turned at an unnatural angle.

"So sorry," the man said, "didn't meant to interrupt. Do continue."

* * *

"Damnit Crowley!" cursed Dean as he slammed a hand on the wall. "We told him not to kill anyone!"

Spike started laughing. "I changed my mind. I like this bloke. You should have brought him along sooner."

* * *

"Now," the demon began as he walked back and forth in front of the troops, "I've been told to very respectably ask if you would allow a physician through your ranks. Apparently one of _you_ poked a hole in one of _them_. Would be a shame if the lady's fine set of breasts were lost to the world."

"Foul-mouthed perversion!" snarled a Knight-Captain. "As if we would give quarter to those that would aid the _Beast_."

Crowley sighed and locked eyes with the Knight-Captain. Straining against an unseen force, the man quivered and gritted his teeth, then suddenly drew his sword. However, the blade pointed not towards the demon, but at General Gregor. " _What is the meaning of this?_ " he roared.

Dozens of other weapons unsheathed. Half of the Knights of Byzantium now had their sword, spear, mace, or bow and arrow pointed at a compatriot, fear and anxiety writ large on their faces. Gregor seethed with rage as Crowley cocked an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Let them go _immediately_ , you putrid creature of darkness!"

"Sticks and stones, love." Those that were armed cried out as they fought against the swelling urge to kill their brethren.

The General finally snarled an acquiescence through his teeth. "One man only."

"Nice doing business with you," said the demon as weapons clanged and clattered to the dirt.

* * *

When Crowley stepped inside, he blithely returned the others' glares. "What?"

"Was killing the old man really necessary?" asked Buffy furiously.

"No. Can't blame me; he was irritating."

"Good on you, mate!" cheered Spike. The demon and the vampire beamed at each other.

Exasperated, Dean finally demanded, "Don't you got more to do?"

"I'm going, sweetie," Crowley answered. "Don't get your panties in a twist." Without further preamble the demon was gone.

"I _really_ don't like him," Xander declared. "He talks about Anya's… _things_ again, I'm gonna do something."

"Like what?" Willow queried disbelievingly.

"I dunno, but something properly manly I tell you that!"

Buffy walked up to Dean. "Well? Now what?"

He shrugged. "Now we wait."

* * *

Ben decided to leave town.

Glorificus had been strangely quiescent since she'd had the high school dropped on her. After digging him out of the ruins the minions had been absent, off doing some project, and as far as any of them knew the Key was still in the Slayer's possession. If he could get his and Glory's shared body as far away as possible it might give Buffy more time to figure out a solution and a little girl wouldn't have to die.

While Glory's possessions were numerous and luxurious, Ben's were far more humble. Hurriedly he stuffed a gym bag with everything that he considered valuable: clothing, a few favorite med school textbooks, his first stethoscope, and an expensive first aid kit that had been gifted to him by a grateful EMT.

He looked at it, remembering the incident. During his emergency medicine rotation the woman had come in pushing a gunshot victim. Ben had noticed her gripping her chest and neck, grimacing in between calling out information on her patient. Ben had made her partner handle the GSW while he rescued her from an impending heart attack.

He was going to miss being a doctor. Leaving Sunnydale, however, opened up some opportunities. There were places in the world where they didn't look too closely at credentials and would be grateful to have his experience. Maybe he could head to Mexico; open up a little clinic and take care of the locals.

With his bag in the car and gas tank full, Ben started driving south towards I–5 with the intention of riding it straight to the border. His old Honda sped along unimpeded along the back roads; he had no intention of giving Glory a clear path back to the Hellmouth.

So far so good. A slow semi was in front of him and he checked his side mirrors to see if he could pass. When he checked his rearview mirror, there was a man in his back seat.

"Hello," greeted the stranger.

Ben screamed and reflexively jerked the steering wheel. The car swerved wildly from side to side as he fought to regain control. Luckily, the semi was the only vehicle on the road other than his own as he made an screeching, diagonal stop across the dashed yellow lines. He gasped for breath and twisted around to look in his back seat with the faint hope that he'd been hallucinating.

Nope. Well-dressed man was still sitting there, except now he seemed annoyed. "I hope you're a better doctor than a driver."

" _Who the hell are you?_ " Ben shrilly asked the intruder.

"Friend of a friend. Name's Crowley. There's a girl named Buffy, sent me to fetch you."

"Buffy?" Panic spiked again. Did the Slayer know…?

"One of her friends has a hole in her that shouldn't be there. It's depriving her of precious bodily fluids. The tiny yellow bird thinks you're the best one to come patch it up."

"Well she's just going to have to find someone else. In case you haven't noticed, I'm leaving town. _Permanently_."

"Yes, that did make it difficult to find you. However, the girl says you're the only one she trusts. So you can do this the easy way," Crowley said, blinking his eyes to crimson, "or the hard way."

Ben jumped at the change. Of course the man wasn't human. "What are you?"

"A _real_ demon: the King of Hell. Now, are we ready?" Crowley asked, amiably. He blinked again and his eyes were back to their former brown. "Good. Let's get going then. I'll be your very handsome GPS."

"I wouldn't let anyone die anyways if I could do something about it," Ben stated as he pressed the gas and straightened the car.

He wasn't just heading back into danger out of _fear_ for the thing in the back seat; he wasn't realizing how _ludicrous_ his escape plan had been; he wasn't feeling as if he'd been _foolish_ to think his fate lay anywhere other than being ground to dust under Glorificus' machinations.

Of course he was doing this _only_ because it was his duty as a physician. It never crossed his mind to refuse and just continue running off to save his own hide.

When Ben checked his rearview mirror again he cringed. Crowley gazed knowingly back at him, his lips curled in a sneer.

"Sure you wouldn't, love. Sure you wouldn't."


	21. Part II: Chapter 21

They weren't certain how long it would take Crowley to return with Ben, but for the moment the siege was at a standstill. The Knights couldn't get in, and they certainly couldn't get out. With one less cleric, Willow said that the pressure she'd been feeling on her shield had lessened considerably. The General, however, made a point to hold funeral rites and the man's cremation directly in front of the shield so that everyone in the building could see. The glowers he directed at the shuttered windows left no doubt to his intentions.

Unfortunately, the two people on lookout were Giles and Spike. Their attitudes thwarted the General's intentions; the former with a pragmatic view of Crowley's homicide (as it got the Knights' attention fairly quickly), the latter amused by the spectacle.

"Old man burns pretty well, don't you think?" Spike asked sardonically.

"Would be burning better if they'd used more petrol," replied Giles, "and not stood the poor fellow up in one of those containers to burn him. No doubt half of them out there aren't enjoying the sight or the smell."

In fact, the only ones lingering nearby were the General and the remaining two clerics. The others had backed away and had set out to do supposedly needed chores like currying the already curried horses or sharpening the already sharpened blades. Luckily for the defenders, Willow had managed to add an extra shield layer to prevent the stench from wafting inside. However, she had no extra power to opaque the grotesque view of a slowly burning, uncovered corpse. Even Dean had balked a little at the display. As a result, the others had scattered to various areas for privacy or rest.

* * *

Willow and Dawn were camped in the storeroom with Tara and Sam. Judging by the younger Winchester's earlier reaction, no one wanted to risk having them see the demon's true face. The four were sitting or crouching on the floor while the mentally impaired duo started a nonsensical conversation, ostensibly to pass the time. The other two munched on chips and listened.

"The darkness," said Sam, "we should be lighting the torches."

"We could see birds," Tara replied, "they fly through the blue."

"Angels have wings."

"Pretty!"

"Lucifer has wings. Lucifer is in Hell. Why is he in _Hell_ but he has _wings?_ " Sam clutched his forelock and concentrated down on the floor.

"Crispy!" Tara giggled at Willow who gave her a patient smile.

Dawn sighed and opened up a granola bar in hopes of enticing Sam to eat. She wafted it under his nose. "See? Yummy!" He snatched it and tore out bites while still staring at nothing.

Tara, however, was reticent about eating and tossed her packet of gummy worms across the room. Her girlfriend merely sighed and gave her a pat on the cheek.

"Willow," Dawn said quietly, "do you think they'll ever be back to normal?"

"Of course, Dawnie," the witch answered. "You'll see. We'll get rid of Glory and they'll be perfectly fine."

Sam dropped his food. "The Cage," he muttered, "the Cage, the Cage, _the Cage_ …"

* * *

Pain, horrendous and unfamiliar, eventually drew Anya out of unconsciousness. "Xander?" she managed to croak.

The young man, who had been sitting beside her, stood up immediately and took her hand. "Anya, oh my God. How do you feel?"

"Thirsty."

Xander knelt down and brought up a bottle of water from under his chair. "Thought you might be." He cracked open the screw top and held his girlfriend slightly upright. "Here."

Anya took a few sips before coughing. When Spike and Giles turned towards them in concern Xander shook his head and waved them away. He gently lay her back down and screwed the lid back on the water. Perplexed, the ex-demon whispered, "Am I dying?"

Her boyfriend put on a brave face and said, "Nah. You're just being dramatic so you don't have to help out around here. I mean, look at this place. It's a mess!"

Sternly, she whispered, "Don't lie to me."

Xander sighed. "We sent for help. Ben, remember him? He's going to be here any minute and he'll patch you up, good as new."

Anya pouted. "I've decided I don't like being mortal. It's stupid and scary and if I die I can't ever have sex with you again."

He gave her a shaky laugh. "I promise, Anya: we get out of this? We're having as much sex as you want, whenever you want."

"With toys and chocolate?"

Xander blinked back tears as Anya's eyes fluttered closed. "Yes. With toys and chocolate."

* * *

Buffy found Dean peering out a back window doing his best to see through the accumulated filth. "What're you doing?" she asked, keeping her volume low. "Army's up front."

"Checkin' on my Baby," he answered quietly. "I swear if those dicks put one scratch on her I'll shove their pointy weapons up where the sun don't shine."

The Slayer grimaced. "Thanks for that mental picture." She looked out at the battered, bullet ridden Impala and with great effort resisted asking Dean how he would distinguish any new blemishes from the ones that had already been inflicted.

The hunter drew away from the window and faced her. "How're you holding up?"

She sighed. "I just want us all to get out and go somewhere safe. Who knows how long it'll be before Glory starts coming after us?"

"Yeah, well…" Dean searched for a believable lie to cover his dreadful certainty that the Hellgod was already on her way and came up empty. He looked at the young woman and saw on her the same mix of determination and despair that had often greeted him in the mirror. There was no doubt that the Slayer knew their predicament was untenable; their supplies wouldn't last for more than another day, Willow couldn't possibly hold the shield forever, and no matter what Buffy's doctor friend did Anya would need a hospital. Dean decided to bite the bullet and bring up the one thing he was sure would distract her. "Hey, you cut me off yesterday when I tried to talk to you."

Confused, Buffy asked, "I did?"

"Yeah. In the hospital? After getting Tara?"

"Oh." She remembered now: the kiss, his reaction, her fury. A mix of yearning and annoyance pushed aside the anxiety that had plagued her since they'd taken shelter. "I don't get what there is to talk about. You clearly had a… moment of lusty weakness." Buffy then turned condescending. "It's okay. I'm certain it happens to _all_ the guys. I forgive you."

Dean snorted. "Yeah? Takes two to tango, sweetheart, and if I remember correctly, you're the one who started it."

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did n–okay, stop!" Buffy took a few breaths to calm herself. "Giles told me that you came into the Magic Box all hungover and gross. Sounds to me like _someone_ was feeling guilty."

"Maybe," he responded. Then his temper flared. "What do you want from me, huh? An _apology?_ I was trying to protect you, stop this thing now before it starts. You know I'm a hunter. I don't have a future that includes the two-point-five kids and a white picket fence."

"Who says that's what I want, huh? Who says I can even _have_ that if I wanted it? I'm the Slayer. The Chosen One. _One!_ " Buffy jabbed a finger upwards and nearly shoved it up Dean's nostril. "How many hunters are out there? Dozens? Hundreds? In our world, there's just _me_. Well, technically there's Faith, but she's in jail for like a bajillion years."

"Who?"

"Never mind, long story. The point is: my life will never be normal. So whatever other excuses you got for me, _stow it_. If I want to lead a weird life then it's my choice. If-If I want to love someone that's a head case then that's also my choice. Got it?"

Dean stared, nonplussed. He thought of Lisa, how difficult it had been with her and Ben; trying to lead that normal life while keeping it quiet that the monsters under the bed were real. Lisa wasn't able to handle it and his attempts to keep them away from his past almost ended tragically. But _this_ girl, this tiny, stubborn girl, already knew about the monsters. In fact, a lot of those monsters were afraid of _her_.

He sighed, then gave her the ghost of a smile. What if? _Just what if?_ Buffy had her head turned up at him and when he started to lean down her eyes began to close.

"Dean!" Dawn suddenly shrieked.

Startled, the two of them quickly drew away from one another. The younger Summers then let out a scream and they rushed towards the storeroom. There they beheld a crazed Sam advancing on Giles with clenched fists. The Watcher had dropped the shotgun and was holding his hands up defensively. Xander was already on the floor rubbing his jaw.

"I won't go back in the Cage! I don't have to say _yes!_ " Sam ranted down at the younger man. He looked over at his brother, terrified. "It's not my turn to be flayed! I don't want to eat my fingers. Lucifer's hands are in me, ripping and tearing! _Make him stop!_ "

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said as calmly as he could. "You don't have to go in there. You can stay here."

"Stay?"

"Yeah, stay. Here," he said as he withdrew a prescription bottle from his jacket's inside pocket and tipped a white pill into his palm, "you eat this and you can stay."

Though he was clearly suspicious, Sam inched his way to his brother. He snatched the medication and swallowed it dry. Then he went to a corner and sat, legs folded up, arms on his knees, and head buried downwards. Dean heaved a sigh of relief, then looked worriedly at Buffy. "It hasn't been nearly enough time for his next dose."

"He's getting worse," Giles said sympathetically.

Dean wiped a hand down his face and sighed again. "Nothin' I can do from in here other than keep doping him up," the hunter stated.

"What was he talking about?" asked Buffy.

Dean started to answer when Xander called out from the doorway of the storeroom, "Guys, we've got a problem."

When the remainder of the group approached (sans Spike, who was still keeping lookout), they found Tara huddled beside the door jamb sobbing and Willow kneeling down, dazed. Dawn was trying to use some dusty paper towels to staunch a gash on the top of the witch's head. "Sam smacked her and she fell into a shelf," she explained.

"Buffy," Willow groaned, " _the shield_ … I can't…"

"Oi!" shouted Spike. "We got incoming!"

With two startling crashes, a pair of Knights dove in through the front windows. When the vampire punched one in the face the Initiative's chip kicked in and he reeled to one side howling in pain. Buffy quickly slammed the storeroom door shut as a shotgun blast erupted. She was furious at herself for neglecting to prepare a contingency if Willow's shield failed. Despite their desire to keep the body count down, all defensive measures were now fair game and now there was no way to prevent killing their besiegers.

The Knight that Giles had shot staggered and fell onto his face, his leather and chain armor no match for the firearm. The other swung his sword at the Watcher who leaned back, cocked the shotgun, and fired again. As the crunch of axe against wood floated in from the rear, the Knight-Captain that had faced down Crowley kicked in the front door. Buffy met him with a spin kick to the face as Dean and Spike rushed to the back door.

"What the hell are _you_ gonna do?" Dean demanded irritably as he discharged three shots at the door. "Scream like a wuss at them?"

"The _door_ isn't human, you dimwit!" Spike shouted back. He grabbed a warped sign holder and jammed between the door handle and the side of the wall. The axe wielders, those that hadn't been shot, were momentarily confounded by the metal bar now stuck across the wood. Dean took the opportunity to empty the remainder of his clip and the surviving Knights backed away to formulate a different plan.

Those that were coming inside through the front door came slowly but inexorably and the defenders were hard pressed. For every one put down, another took his place. Buffy had scrounged a short sword, less of a hinderance in close quarters, and with the angel blade in her other hand was dispatching them two or three at a time. Xander hovered protectively around Anya's inert form conservatively firing shots only when one of the Knights thought to go for easier prey. Addled by the sedative, Sam had put his arms over his head and curled on his side while Giles stood in front of him and used his now empty shotgun as a makeshift club.

Dean reloaded and started firing again when one of the Knights smashed a mace into the same window he'd been using to survey the Impala. "My bag!" he hollered at Spike. "I need more clips!" The vampire headed back into the other room, dodged a swinging sword, evaded a war hammer, and grabbed the duffel bag that was beside Anya's table. He made a similar journey back and tossed Dean a spare shotgun while the hunter dropped the handgun for Spike to reload.

One of the Knights managed to breach the storeroom door and elicited a terrified shriek from Dawn. Willow had fortunately just then regained her equilibrium. She barked an incantation that sent the intruder flying away.

The witch stood, her eyes filmed in black, and uttered another spell that restored the shield. Four of the Knights were trapped inside. Buffy stabbed one of them with the angel blade and another with the short sword. As the back door and window were again impenetrable, Dean marched into the room and fired the shotgun while Giles smashed the butt of his firearm into the face of the remaining Knight.

Everyone stood or bent over breathing hard while grimacing at the carnage. Eight dead Knights and three incapacitated ones (including the Knight-Captain) were strewn around the floor and against the walls while who knew how many lay full of bullets outside the back door. Buffy and Giles were liberally splashed with blood.

"Well that was fun," quipped Xander. "Oh no wait, that was _terrifying_."

"Come on," the Slayer said once her heart had stopped racing, "let's get the dead into the office and the injured as comfortable as possible. Tie them up if they're not too bad off."

Wistfully, Spike asked, "Can I…?"

"On the dead and out of our sight."

As a whistling Spike threw one of the bodies onto his shoulder, Dean blinked at Buffy. "Dead man's blood isn't poisonous for him?"

"No, why would it be?"

He shrugged. "Never mind."

The vampire thankfully refrained from feeding until they had hauled all of the dead away. He closed the door before gratefully easing his hunger. Two of the injured were merely unconscious, but the third was awake and clutching a bleeding sword wound across his chest. When Buffy knelt down to check on him, he spat in her face. With a punch, she added him to the unconscious roster.

As Dean was reloading Xander's firearm, he was surprised to see a stream of steady, white light pass through the remains of the front windows. He cautiously peered outside and gave a weak smile to the others. "It's a car. Ben is here."

"Thank God," exhaled Xander. Dean handed him back his fully loaded handgun and slid a new clip into his own. Giles grabbed a discarded sword and the three of them followed Buffy out the door.

General Gregor was bellowing at Ben and Crowley about their late arrival, nearly purple with rage. The demon's eyes were narrowed and Dean knew that if the General didn't cease haranguing them soon Crowley would snap his fingers and shut him up permanently. "Hey! Yo!" the hunter yelled. "Head honcho! Gonna go back on your word or you letting them through?"

The General stormed over. "You can have your doctor when I get my wounded."

Giles rolled his eyes. "The more _intelligent_ thing to do would be to allow the man inside so he can take care of everyone at once."

"Very well." Gregor gestured towards another Knight. "You will let Commander Dante accompany the boy to ensure the well-being of my men."

"Fine," Buffy snapped. "He tries anything and we'll send him back with his head literally up his ass." She turned towards the building. "Willow! Make an opening!"

Crowley and Ben approached the barrier, the latter holding his emergency med kit, and Dean and Xander raised their guns at the Knights. A rippling circle appeared in what had been empty space. The former resident went first, but as the demon stepped through the doorway shrank and became more rotund.

The demon turned around watched the gate close with his lips pressed together. "Smarmy witch."

"Come on," instructed Buffy. They trotted for the interior as the General and his army glared.

Hesitantly, Ben followed, swallowing his apprehension. As soon as he'd patched everyone up he was prepared to resume his escape. Glory had been quiet and would _remain_ quiet until they were far enough away to disrupt her ceremony.

At least, he hoped she would.

* * *

Special thank you to Twisting the Hellmouth's **draconis** for pointing out that I forgot about messing up Dean's Baby a few chapters ago. Oopsies.


	22. Part II: Chapter 22

6/22/2016 - Imma try this update at the top of my chapters thing. Seems to work pretty well for others. So unfortunately the updates might get even slower; moving day doth approach. Thank you, Fanfiction Dot Net's **thedarkpokemaster** and **IoSolUno** for the constant reviews, and thanks **Authoressinhiding** for help with my silly questions!

Note: A lot of Gregor's speech is taken verbatim from the episode, "Spiral." They may never see this, but I'm grateful to the **Buffyworld** website for their awesome content.

I am, however, NOT grateful that my phone arbitrarily respells things for me. -_-

* * *

The first person Ben headed for was Anya despite loud objections on the part of Commander Dante. Xander stopped them by pointing a gun at the Knight's head. "She's first."

The Commander sneered. "You are incapable of killing a man in cold blood, boy." When Xander flinched, he chuckled.

"Yeah?" Dean interjected as drew the hammer on his handgun. "You got the same opinion about me?" Dante looked into the hunter's eyes and swallowed his complaints.

As Ben snapped on sterile gloves, Spike emerged from the office trying to surreptitiously wipe his mouth. He met the Commander's glower with amusement. "We inviting others to the party then?"

Dante whirled towards Buffy. "How many of our men have you slaughtered?"

" _More_ than enough," she answered. "Send in any more and we'll add to the pile."

Angrily, the Knight added, "And you allowed this creature to _feed on them_?"

Before the Slayer could make any pithy remarks, Giles cleared his throat. "I think it would be best if we laid the dead outside for collection. Perhaps you could help, Commander. Dean? Xander?" The two men named gave Dante a warning glance before following the Watcher into the office.

As the four men carefully lay the bodies outside in a neat row, Crowley scrutinized the doctor and his patient. The demon couldn't help staring. There was something inherently _off_ about the man. It wasn't anything he could pinpoint exactly, but it almost felt as if he was gazing at two overlapping people. The prominent one, the doctor, was boring. His desperation was somewhat intriguing, but the rest of him was just another meatbag on its way to the grave. The other one, the one that seemed so similar to Crowley himself, was _far_ more interesting.

Ben sighed. "If you're going to stand there and stare can you at least do something helpful? Like get me some water?"

"No," Crowley replied petulantly. The doctor sighed again while shaking his head in consternation and resumed stitching Anya's wound.

Spike, in the meantime, was waiting for an opportune moment to get Sam back inside the storeroom. Despite the cessation of hostilities, the younger Winchester hadn't moved from his huddle and thankfully hadn't seen the demon return. As soon as the Knight-Commander was outside kneeling down with one of his fallen brethren, Spike threw his coat over the hunter's head and pulled him up. It took all of his vampiric strength to drag the behemoth to safety. As soon as Sam was inside, Buffy quickly shut the door and stood in front of it.

"You should be out there, love," Spike said to Willow. She was currently helping Tara drink a bottle of water. "Doc's patchin' up those that need it."

The witch put one hand to her hair and grimaced at the sticky strands. "Yeah. Can you stay in here? Help Dawnie with them?"

"Always available to keep the little nibblet company."

As Willow squeezed out the door (Buffy was refusing to open it any further than absolutely necessary), Spike took back his coat. "C'mon Sam," Dawn said with a smile as she patted the space next to her. "You can sit here."

The hunter sluggishly walked over and flopped down. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. "Dean?"

"Your bro's not far, mate," replied the vampire as he started to search the room for tobacco. Sam peered groggily at him before again drawing up his knees and resting his head on folded arms.

"Everything's going to be okay, right?" Dawn tentatively asked.

"Not to worry," answered Spike. "Big sis is out there. She'll make sure nothin's going to happen."

They were silent a few moments. Then, miserably, the young girl softly wondered, "Wouldn't it be better if I just go with those guys? Then all of you could go. It-It would be all over. _Everything_."

"Hey, no, none of that." The vampire walked over and knelt in front of her. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You do that, Buffy will haul you right back. Nothin' but a world of hurt for everyone if you go that route, especially for that bloody stubborn sis of yours."

"It's just… It's just I wish I could _help_ somehow. Instead I'm just this lump sitting around."

"Best way for you to help is to stay outta sight. Somethin' tells me those rusty wankers out there know more than they're letting on."

Spike's comment made Buffy think and she hurried outside. The last of the bodies were being laid out by Dean and Giles while General Gregor and a good number of the Knights scowled from the other side of the shield. As she approached the General, the Slayer demanded, "What do you know about Glory?"

"The Beast?" he growled. "It is a Hellgod from a dimension of _unspeakable torment_ which it ruled along with two others. Along with the Beast they were a triumvirate of suffering and despair, ruling with equal vengeance. But the Beast's power grew beyond even what they could conceive, as did her lust for pain and misery. They looked upon her, what she had become… and trembled."

Dean stood up and brushed dust off his hands on his jeans. "Gods being scared? What else is new?"

"You misunderstand," Gregor continued. "They were not merely 'scared.' They were _terrified_. The others were certain she would obtain complete domination over their dimension and crush them under her feet. A great battle erupted. In the end, they stood victorious over the Beast… _barely_. She was cast out, banished to this lower plane of existence, forced to live and eventually die trapped within the body of a mortal: a newborn male, created as her prison. That is the Beast's only weakness."

"So?" asked Dean as Xander and Giles listened to the recitation in horror. "Who is it?"

"If we knew, we would not be standing here and letting our brothers die at your hands."

"What about the Key?" Giles queried.

"The Key was created at the same era which spawned the Beast. It is intended to open the gates that separate dimensions. The Beast will use this power to return home and seize control of the Hell-dimension she was banished from."

Buffy scoffed. "That's it? This whole thing is happening because Glory wants to go back to her _Hell-mansion_?"

"You misunderstand. Once the key is activated, it won't just open the gates to the Beast's dimension; it will open _all_ the gates. The walls separating realities will crumble. Dimensions will bleed into each other. Order will be overthrown and the universe will tumble into chaos."

They gaped at him. The General was smug, certain in the righteousness of his cause. "Well that sucks," Dean finally commented.

"You give us the girl, we will let all of you go. You do not, and our legions will bathe in your blood."

Buffy's eyes flashed in fury and panic. "How do you know who the Key is?"

General Gregor blew a sharp whistle then barked, "Bring it!" From the back of the camp a man jogged up holding a sack, its bottom black with blood. He reached in and pulled out the neatly severed head of one of Glory's scabrous minions. "He told us much before dying," said the General with a sneer. "They are loyal to a fault to the Beast, but every creature has its limits."

"Man," Xander muttered, his face slightly green, "I do _not_ want to know what happened to the rest of that thing."

"You're _sick_ ," condemned Buffy.

"Maybe," Gregor said, "but the horrors we inflicted pale to those that will occur if the Beast succeeds."

With the windows broken and the door left ajar the outside conversation drifted inside unimpeded. Ben stiffened while in the middle of inspecting Willow's head wound. The witch reached up and patted his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry. That Beast thing they're talking about isn't anywhere near."

Ben grimaced and bit back the desire to proclaim, _She's right here! Come and get 'em!_ So _his_ death would ensure _hers_ , huh? Well, now he knew of an an easy solution for everybody: just ask for one of those pretty boy's guns and make an end to it. He gazed longingly at the armory spilling out from Dean's duffel bag.

The doctor swallowed. He wasn't ready to give up yet. Or he wasn't brave enough to pull the trigger. Either way, self-sacrifice wasn't going to happen any time soon. "There's nothing really wrong here; it's just a cut," Ben told Willow. "Head wounds bleed pretty badly. Just keep pressure with this gauze for about fifteen minutes and you should be good to go. You start feeling dizzy or anything like that let one of us know right away."

"Thanks, Ben. I mean Dr. Wilkinson. Or-Or Dr. Ben?"

He chuckled. "Ben is just fine." The doctor turned, intending to head next for the wounded Knights, and came face to face with Crowley's wry smile. There was something in his eyes, something that said the demon _knew_ his secret and was deciding how to act. A chill ran down Ben's spine and he purposely jostled the thing with his shoulder as he walked towards his next patient.

The (temporarily deposed) King of Hell had indeed figured out how the boy and the double-vision he was experiencing related to the General's lecture. Crowley had no idea what a Hellgod was, or what any of this other-dimensional nonsense was about, but it did sound like this Glory-Beast-thing was his kind of associate. Perhaps it was even strong enough to knock Lucifer's poncey ass off the throne. First step would be to discover how to bring her out into the open. Next would be to figure out what to bring to the negotiating table. Perhaps he could make the presumption that the Hellgod wanted the head of that cheeky blonde bird? It would make for a decent ice breaker.

Abruptly there was a thump from the storeroom door and the muffled sound of Spike uttering a stream of obscenities. Then came a crash as the vampire exploded through the rotted wood. He ended up on his back and the remainder of the door fell and cracked him on the head. When Sam, fists clenched, appeared in the now empty frame Spike yelled, "Keep your _bloody_ mitts off of me, you gormless prat!"

Those that had been outside rushed back in as Dawn reached out and pulled on the younger Winchester's arm. "Sam! It's okay! He was just talking!"

Ben's heart stopped when he caught sight of the girl. "Oh God," he whispered before turning towards Buffy. "Let me out. You gotta let me out _right now_."

"What?"

"Open the shield! Just listen to me, _she's coming!_ If I don't leave–"

Knight-Commander Dante stood in front of the doctor and slammed a palm onto his chest. "You will be permitted to depart once you've seen to our men!"

"No, no no no," Ben moaned as he gripped his hair. "Please, _please_ just run, before she's–"

"– _Here!_ " Glory cried.

Dante stared, dumbfounded. Where had the Beast come from? Where did the doctor go? Why was his hand on the monster's _breast?_

"Hey!" the Hellgod yelped as she noticed the Knight-Commander's grip. She reached out with both hands and snapped his head completely around. "No touching the goods!"

Dante's body crumpled to the floor as the rest of them stood there, horrified and bewildered. Glory took a moment to look at her clothing in disgust. The oversized jeans had puddled onto the floor and left her dressed in nothing but a large men's shirt. She daintily stepped out of the pants and kicked off the shoes muttering about inane fashion choices. A moment later, the Hellgod ecstatically locked eyes with Dawn. As she moved towards her Key, Sam and Tara broke the impasse by wailing in terror, the latter flattening Willow to the floor in her panic, and the room erupted.

As Xander rushed over to shield Anya, Glory clamped down on Dawn's wrist. When Buffy tried to reach for Dawn's _other_ wrist she was casually backhanded away. Dean then pumped his shotgun and aimed. The Hellgod grabbed the barrel as it went off, blasting a hole in the ceiling, and wrenched it out of his hands. She then swung and whacked the hunter upside the head with the stock of his own firearm. The gun was then thrown like a spear at Spike who caught the butt in the chest and collapsed. Her last obstacle, Giles, she shoved away with her bare foot and sent him flying into a wall.

At the shield, she was momentarily stymied. The Knights fearfully cried her name and grabbed their armaments. The General stood first and foremost before the Beast bellowing orders with his sword in hand. "Gregor!" Glory exclaimed in delight. "So nice to see you!" She then punched the magical barrier and stepped through just as Buffy and Dean staggered out the door. To their dismay, the hole immediately closed behind the Hellgod and the two of them were brought up short.

"Willow!" Buffy shrieked. Immediately, the witch began uttering the incantation to dismiss her barrier as the Beast obliterated the Knights of Byzantium.

The first to go was Gregor. As soon as she had stepped through Glory reached for him and crushed his neck. She threw his body into the crowd. Dawn was then dropped to the dirt where she curled into a ball, screaming. The Hellgod put one foot on the girl's hip to prevent her from escaping before facing the remaining Knights.

Nothing harmed her, no attack fazed her. Arrows clattered and blades broke against her skin. She yanked weapons out of men's hands and impaled their owners. With her bare hands she eviscerated men, tore them in half, ripped their limbs from their bodies, or struck them so forcibly that organs burst and bones shattered. Within minutes the entire army had either fled screaming or lay dead and dying.

Glorificus stood over Dawn in the middle of the slaughter spattered liberally with blood. The Hellgod threw her head back as she laughed and laughed and _laughed_.

The barrier finally dropped. Glory effortlessly picked up Dawn by the back of her shirt and threw the girl over her shoulder. She looked over as Buffy and Dean stormed towards her, licked blood from her lips, and with a swirl of wind was gone.

The others rushed out, Giles limping and Spike gripping his chest, to be struck dumb by the massacre. "Excuse me," Xander groaned before staggering to the side of the building to vomit.

Buffy dropped to her knees in the middle of the gore, tears silently falling down her cheeks. Dawn was _gone_. Glory had won. The Hellgod would use her Key to return home and anarchy and darkness would reign. Her sister would die and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

"Buffy?" Willow whispered.

It was all her fault. She _failed_. She was _worthless_. She deserved to die.

"Buffy!" shouted Dean. He crouched down by her face and repeatedly snapped his fingers. "C'mon, man, don't do this. Wake up!"

Pain, _excruciating_ pain, lanced through her heart and body. It would be easier, so much easier, to feel nothing, to be _empty_. And so that's what she became.

Nothing.

Empty.

 _Blissfully numb_.

"Buffy!"


	23. Part II: Chapter 23

6/24/2016 - Crowley's dialogue is giving me some issues (since I'm fluent in California surfer/valley girl and not London slang). If anyone can help me out I'd be tremendously grateful :D

Thank you **IoSolUno** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **xxRomanceGirlxx** , and random Guest person for the reviews! Every comment helps push my butt to keep writing!

* * *

At this point, there was nothing they could do for Buffy. Yelling, pleading, and even _slapping_ her brought no response. Crowley offered to slice her up a little and was adamantly refused. Eventually Dean picked her up and brought her into the building away from the slaughter. He sat her gently down on the floor then peered out a broken window. "I don't think any of them survived."

"Then we should go," Giles said quietly. "Anya is in desperate need of actual medical facilities and with Ben gone I'm not sure what else we can do for her."

" _Gone?_ " Spike asked, astonished. "Didn't you just see him do the T–2000 and transform into Glory?"

"Oh my God," gasped Willow.

"Glory and Ben are connected somehow?" Giles added.

"What sort of relationship could there _possibly_ be between Glory and Ben?" Xander asked.

"It was barely ten minutes ago!" yelled Spike. "What is wrong with you people?"

Crowley lifted an eyebrow at Dean. "Are your new friends here daft?"

"What're you talking about?" the hunter responded.

"What am I–the bloody _Hellgod_ and the bleeding _boy-body_ she's been strolling around in!"

"I'd think I'd notice if that bitch was walkin' around with something extra in her skirt."

The demon and the vampire exchanged baffled looks. "Glory is Ben and Ben is Glory," Spike firmly stated, feeling as if he were explaining the concept to a child. A really, really _stupid_ child.

"Good Lord," said Giles, "we should find out if there is anything connecting the two of them."

"Maybe one of her minions would know?" asked Willow.

"Have you all gone _barking mad?_ " Crowley shouted.

Spike stood in front of the demon and said quietly, "I think we're the only ones that know, mate."

Crowley's brow furrowed as he took stock of the others. "We're the only ones in the room that aren't _human_."

As the two conferred, Dean scanned the room and wondered, "Where's the doc?"

"Maybe Glory took him?" answered Willow. "Or-Or maybe they're working together?"

Spike and Crowley sighed, exasperated. "Bollocks," they muttered together.

* * *

Eventually it was decided to head back regardless of the nonsense the demon and the vampire kept spouting. They split between two cars: Anya and Xander would go with Dean in the back of the much faster Impala with Sam sedated in the front; the rest would take Ben's abandoned Honda with Spike in the trunk (he was already eyeing the brightening sky warily). Once the plan was established, the hunter packed up his Baby and went to the front of the building to hot-wire the doctor's Honda (hoping the poor guy wasn't wandering around the desert somewhere). He was flabbergasted when he found Giles in the front seat sparking wires together. The engine roared to life.

"Dude," he remarked when the Watcher exited, "who _are_ you?"

Giles adjusted his glasses and gave Dean a stern look. "Let's just say some of us with questionable pasts actually _learned_ from them."

Before the hunter could retort, Willow came out leading Buffy. The catatonic young woman followed her pulled hand limply, eyes glazed, and sat only when pushed into the car. As Willow headed back to retrieve Tara, Giles looked worriedly at his Slayer. He then noticed the devastated expression on the elder Winchester's face. "Dean," he said quietly, "I'm certain it's only temporary."

"Yeah, well, saw this happen to someone before and afterwards she wasn't really the same. And besides, there ain't no way we're beating this Hellgod without some super-powered help."

"Speaking of which," the Watcher added as he caught sight of Crowley standing casually near the Impala watching the proceedings, "is your demonic friend there staying or going?"

"Beats me. And he is _not_ my friend. Honestly, I don't even know why he's still here. I better go find out."

Crowley watched the hunter approach and quipped, "You know, you should keep Moose as he is. I like him much better this way."

"Shut up, Crowley," Dean snarled. He'd asked the demon to try and get Sam into the back of the Impala and he'd complied. Somewhat. When the younger Winchester became recalcitrant, Crowley had snapped his fingers and Sam crumpled to the floor, asleep. He then refused to do any more and Dean and Xander were forced to haul the large, unconscious hunter into the vehicle's front passenger seat.

When the elder Winchester didn't say any more and just peered at him, Crowley lifted his eyebrows and asked, "What?"

"Why are you still here?"

"Why can't I be?"

"Weren't you out looking for a Hand of God?"

"I already know where one is."

" _WHAT?_ " Dean yelled loudly. Xander, who had been carefully arranging Anya in the back seat, started in surprise and whacked his head on the Impala's doorframe. "Why the _hell_ haven't you gone out to get it?"

"Because I need you two idiots to help me trap Lucifer!" Crowley shot back. "And since it doesn't look like you're leaving anytime soon, I'm going to go sit on the bloody Hellmouth for a kip and see what all the fuss is about."

"Uh, why?"

"It's proscribed. Therefore, it's intriguing."

"What for?"

The demon snapped, "Do I look like I know everything? All I know is neither angels or demons will go near one and if Lucifer's on my ass then _that's_ where I'm taking a little vacation."

Dean rolled his eyes and when he looked back, Crowley was gone. "Well at least we don't have to listen to his mouth running the whole drive," he muttered to himself.

"Ready to go, Dean," called Xander.

"Yeah, okay," the hunter responded. He waved over at Giles who nodded in acknowledgement. Shortly thereafter the Impala was racing ahead of the Honda back to Sunnydale leaving behind an old, beat up camper van, the ruins of a nameless gas station, and a murder of crows feasting on the remains of the Knights of Byzantium.

* * *

The doctors at Sunnydale Memorial whisked Anya away promptly when Xander carried her in. When Dean thought to inquire about Dr. Wilkinson he was informed that Ben no longer worked there as of a few days ago and hadn't been seen since. The hunter tried to remember what Spike and Crowley had been blabbering on about and came up blank. Hopefully the doc would show up soon and alleviate at least one worry off of his back.

The Honda arrived about an hour later as Xander was receiving an update. Dr. Rooker explained that Anya's wound was thankfully clean and that she was in the middle of surgery. Luckily the robber (the imaginary "knife-wielding robber that had mugged them the night before") hadn't hit any major organs but the blade had done some worrying internal damage to her small intestine. Anya wouldn't be leaving the hospital for a good long while.

Xander insisted the rest of them leave. "You guys got Tara, Sam, and now Buffy to figure out. I'll call if there's any change."

The three impaired members of their group had been left in their respective cars; Sam was still asleep and Tara was complacent as long as Willow sat with her. After a short discussion it was decided that they wouldn't bring Buffy inside. Explaining her condition would mean exposing Dawn's abduction and that would most likely draw in good intentioned law enforcement personnel who would only be slaughtered by Glory.

Dean and Giles gave Xander their condolences and headed for Buffy's family home. To their surprise, a very irritated Crowley was inside partaking of Buffy's liquor.

"What's wrong with you?" Dean asked.

"Found out why Heaven and Hell avoid this place," he grumbled as he swirled his ice. "None of your so-called demons show us the proper _respect_."

"Do tell," Giles said dryly.

"Apparently the fact that we look _human_ makes them assume we're… weak. I had to change their minds."

Exasperated, the hunter wiped a hand down his face. "Damnit Crowley, how many did you kill?"

"Only a few. Really convenient, the whole pile of dust thing your vampires do." He lifted his glass in a toast towards the Watcher.

"Oh, _bloody hell,_ " cursed Giles suddenly, "I forgot Spike was in our trunk."

As Crowley had spent a considerable amount of time bound and gagged in the Impala's trunk he was inclined towards pity. He snapped his fingers and a rumpled Spike appeared in the middle of the room. The vampire then proceeded to rip into Giles with such inventive vulgarity that even the demon seemed impressed. Once his tirade was done, the Watcher merely adjusted his spectacles and headed upstairs.

"Wanker," Spike spat. He pointed upwards. "Buffy up there then?"

"Yeah," answered Dean as he sat down on the couch. "Still not doing anything but sit and blink."

Willow had settled Sam and Tara in Buffy's mother's old room and was coming down the stairs. "I got them some plastic cups and some cards," she said with a shrug. "It was all I could find. They made up some kind of game but I have no idea what it is."

From upstairs, faintly, came Sam's enthused cry of, "Aces!"

"Threes!" answered Tara.

Dean shook his head. "Long as they're happy, I guess. What's the old man doing?"

"Still just trying to talk to Buffy. I think… I think I'm going to try something. Get into her head."

"How?"

"Magic. I've been reading up on dreamwalking and telepathy and I think I could do it."

"Yeah?" the hunter responded skeptically. "Or something could go wrong and you'd end up a drooling vegetable."

Willow scowled. "Then what do you suggest?"

"Uh… I dunno." Other than the clink of ice against glass, silence reigned. Dean almost asked Crowley to pour him a scotch as well, then paused. " _You_ go do it."

Flabbergasted, the demon asked, " _Me?_ "

"Yeah, you, dickhead! You've done it before?"

Crowley exhaled a long, drawn-out sigh. " _Gadreel_."

"E-Excuse me?" asked Willow. "What's going on?"

"Him!" Dean declared, pointing. "He can possess Buffy and get inside her head, figure out what's going on."

"Why the devil would I volunteer for that?" grumbled the demon.

"Because you want us outta here and back on Amara's tail, right? Well we ain't goin' nowhere until Sammy's fixed and _that_ ain't happening until Glory's six feet under."

"Whoa, whoa whoa whoa!" Willow cried. "We aren't seriously thinking about possessing Buffy with the pudgy pervy thing, are we?"

Spike, who had up until then been silently swigging vodka straight from the bottle, started chortling. "You gettin' into that girl's head? Good luck with that mess."

Dean glared and with a sullen Crowley stood up. "You gotta better idea?" the hunter demanded at Willow.

"I guess not." She thought for a moment, then asked, "Well, then if he could do that why can't he go into Tara's head and fix her too?"

They looked questioningly at the demon. "Can't fix those ones."

"Can't or won't? asked Dean.

" _Can't_. Again. Something's wrong with their souls, not their heads."

"Excuse me?"

"Their. _Souls_ ," Crowley repeated condescendingly. "Someone's done a sloppy job nipping out little pieces. Remainder's trying to fill up the holes and the whole thing's gone murky. Getting in there would be like trying to piss in a teacup with a blindfold on."

Willow and Dean exchanged troubled looks. "Well, that's disturbing," the hunter said.

The witch glared suspiciously at Crowley. "How do we know you're going to give Buffy's body back when you're done?"

"Not a fan of blondes, love. Plus I prefer to be an outtie than an innie."

"Known more batty women then men," added Spike.

"All right, c'mon, let's get this over with," said Dean reluctantly. "This don't work," he said to Willow, "we try it your way."

"Fine."

* * *

When Giles heard the plan he became apoplectic. "Of all the foolish, idiotic–"

"Look, Jeeves," Dean interjected, "you wanna wait for the years it's going to take a psychologist to snap her out of this?"

While the Watcher considered, happy declarations of various card faces drifted in from the other bedroom. Giles looked worriedly at Buffy who did nothing but sit on her bed stare blankly at the wall. Finally he acquiesced with a sigh. "Do we have any precautions?"

Dean held up a small dagger with a wooden handle which Crowley eyed with trepidation. Intricate sigils were carved on both sides of the blade. The hunter smirked at Giles. "I can promise you won't have to kill Buffy, but I guarantee this'll hurt _him_ like a son of a bitch."

"Very well then. How do we do this?"

Crowley stepped into the room and sat at the Slayer's vanity. "You lot promise not to do anything to my handsome, sexy meatsuit and I'll go in the little bird and have myself a look-see."

"Just to be clear," Giles said ominously as he loomed over the demon, "you try to walk out of here in her body…"

"Yeah, yeah, evisceration and a bloody end. Heckle and Jeckle here say such sweet nothings to me all the time during foreplay. Now, can we get this over with?"

The Watcher stepped back and watched apprehensively as Crowley's mouth opened and an enormous funnel of black and crimson smoke poured from his mouth. Buffy's jaw wrenched open and the vapor poured inside. After the last whiff had disappeared her mouth clamped shut and both Slayer and demon collapsed.

At the doorway Willow gaped. "Wanna help me with something?" Dean asked her.

"Okay, sure," she answered. They headed for the stairs.

"Help you with what?" Giles inquired suspiciously.

"Secondary failsafe," the hunter answered as he handed over the demon-killing knife. "Trust me, nothing dangerous."

"Very well."

The two headed down and out the front door. Giles sat on the edge of the bed and gazed concernedly at the body of his Slayer. He hated not knowing whether or not the demon was keeping to his bargain or doing something else entirely. For a moment he was tempted to ask Dean to exorcise Crowley immediately and let them find an alternative solution, but the late afternoon hour made the Watcher realize that Glory had had Dawn for nearly an entire day. Since they weren't currently being overwhelmed by horrific other-dimensional beasts it was safe to say that the Hellgod hadn't enacted her plan, but there was no way of knowing when that would be.

He sighed. No, they didn't have time. They were just going to have to trust that Crowley would do as he was asked. Giles removed his glasses and wiped them clean as he tried not to let his imagination run wild. Unfortunately, he was having some trouble banishing the idea that they were perilously close to letting loose upon the world a psychotic, Slayer-enhanced demon.

The Watcher gripped the dagger tight. No. He would kill her and the creature inside before that could ever happen.

Now he just needed to wait and see if his beloved Slayer would awaken whole.


	24. Part II: Chapter 24

6/24/2016 - Longer chapter than usual and rather quick. Lots of things in here had already been mapped out so it actually went pretty fast. Plus, psychological agony is always fun to hash out.

A lot of the stuff with Dawn summarizes the events that occurred the last two episodes of season 5 between her, Ben, and Glory and I'll admit to copying a lot of the plot points and dialogue. I just didn't think Ben's part would be complete without his final moment of douchebaggery. I also took some liberties with the First Slayer off the description of " _black smoke demon._ "

Thanks again to Fanfiction Dot Net's **IoSolUno** , **xxRomanceGirlxx** , and **thedarkpokemaster** (and additional mystery guest) for the reviews!

* * *

She would be brave. She wouldn't cry. She would be _brave_.

Ever since arriving at… wherever this was, Dawn had been left alone. It looked like a little office, complete with a cork board full of diagrams, an empty metal desk, filing cabinets with random papers, and a few folding chairs. Outside the dusty windows she could see some kind of construction taking place. The human workers were wearing hospital gowns and appeared unnaturally focused on their various tasks. From the little she could see through the filthy windows it seemed they were making some sort of bedraggled tower. She idly wondered if perhaps they were going to fling her off the top.

The door was barred from the outside and even if she could break a window there was nowhere for her to go. Glory's followers were everywhere either directing the humans or conferring excitedly in corners. All her howling and pounding and shrieking couldn't draw their attention to her plight. Hoarse and exhausted, she eventually just curled up under the desk to wait. An unreasonable and childish part of her hoped that they wouldn't find her there.

A few hours later, Glory strolled in wearing an ornate auburn robe and gown. She had a pizza box in one hand. "Hey, kid! I've got food. That's what kids like, right? Food?"

Dawn tentatively peeked above the desk. "I'm not hungry," she muttered petulantly. Her stomach betrayed her by growling loudly.

"Yeah, right," snorted the Hellgod. She tossed the box onto the desk and opened it. "See? Yummy yummy yummy!" When Dawn only stared at the pie, Glory, oddly, seemed taken aback. "What's the matter, kid? Feeling sick?" She walked around and put a hand on the girl's forehead. After a moment she drew back. "Wait. What the hell am I doing?"

Dawn warily answered, "Um, checking me for a fever?"

"Yeah, but _why_ am I doing it? Why did I get you a frigging _pizza?_ " Glorificus whacked the box away into a corner and began pacing. "I don't care about you. I don't care about _anything_ other than getting home. But now I don't even want to hurt you. I feel _sorry_ for you. I'm feeling like I shouldn't have kidnapped you. I feel… I feel…"

"Guilty," finished Dawn.

Glory snapped her fingers across her body. "That's it! _Guilty!_ " The Hellgod drew back and leaned against a file cabinet, frowning. "That doesn't make any sense."

A thought stuck Dawn, an important memory that she couldn't believe hadn't come to her before. She recalled sitting across from Dr. Wilkinson when he'd suddenly panicked and inexplicably became Glory. "Maybe it's because you're also Ben."

"What?" asked the confounded Hellgod.

"Ben. You're _Ben_. I saw you change."

"How do you know that? _How do you remember that?_ " Glory stomped over to the door and yelled out for her High Priest. The taller minion and a few of the others scuttled to her and prostrated themselves. "Hey! Up up up!" Once they had complied, she grabbed the front of the priest's robe and yanked him down so they were nose to nose. "What the hell is going on? The kid knows about _Ben_. That's not supposed to happen!"

"M-Most Glorious One," he stuttered, "it-it-it is because of the coming ritual. The magics, th-the alignment of planets and dimensions are causing the rift between your most august presence and-and the male prison to blur."

"Ugh!" Glory threw her hands up in disgust and dropped the High Priest to the floor. "Then let's figure out how to scoop him out of me, chop chop!"

"It-It would be most unwise this close to the time of the ritual. There would be a considerable amount of power involved, and-and the backlash, it could disrupt everything."

The Hellgod resumed pacing for a few, nerve-wracking minutes then waved her hand towards the door. "Out, all of you, _out!_ " The vermin scurried away and shut the door behind themselves. Once they were alone, Glory called out to to the air. "Hey, meat-sack. I wanna talk."

Dawn watched, revolted, as the Hellgod became doctor. He stared at his hands as if appalled at the sight of his own fingers. "I… She… We killed so many." He looked at the girl, his eyes brimming with tears. "How could she _do_ that? How can she _live_ with that?"

Ben morphed into Glory. "Silly, that was just a little fun compared to what awaits for me in my lovely dimension! Anyways, I've got a proposition for you."

Glory morphed into Ben. "I don't want to hear _anything_ you have to say! How could you do this to me? How could you ruin my life ?"

Glory laughed. "Oh, stupid little boy. Looks like I'm not the only one having icky feelings."

"No," Ben gasped, "I-I didn't mean… I'm a doctor. I want to help _others_ , not myself!" He turned around and dented a hole in the wall with his fist. "I'm not a selfish prick!"

"Oh yes you are, bucko, at least right now while we're sharing this body. Now, I'm figuring that you're not liking the way I think and I sure as hell don't like the way you think. How about you let me do my little thing with the girly here, you keep your guilt and pity to yourself, and when I'm my beautiful, powerful self again we can be separated!"

"Separated? How?"

"I'll be a _god_ again, little man. I can do whatever I want."

"Yeah? Then what am I supposed to do? Beg for another job? Go out and flip burgers or be some peon in an office to pay my bills? I should kill the girl now before your precious ceremony and then you'll _never_ get what you want!"

Ben started for Dawn and her heart leapt into her throat. She backed away as he once again became Glory. "You forget, I'm starting to remember your thoughts, too. I remember that you could _never_ do it, her being all cute and innocent. And I know what you were thinking when you tried to go running away. You had ideas! You could have a grand future! So no lying to me, Benny-boy, I know you like what I've got to say."

Ben was silent. He met Dawn's eyes, his demeanor uncharacteristically cold and calculating. "Fine," he finally said making terror skitter down the girl's spine.

"Wonderful!" Glory exclaimed. "Now, stay put." She stood still, waiting, arms crossed and fingers tapping. When the young man didn't make a repeat appearance she grinned. "Okay!" the Hellgod said cheerfully. She beamed at Dawn. "I'll be back, sugar, with a pretty new dress for you! So go ahead and relax." With a spring in her step, the Hellgod left the office and rebarricaded the door.

Dawn crawled under the desk, her bravery gone, and for the first time since she'd been abducted she allowed herself to cry. She locked her arms around her legs and rocked back and forth, wailing out her despair and fear. There was nothing a powerless little girl could do to escape; the monks had been too efficient in creating a human from the ball of energy that had been the Key. She was going to die, probably slowly and horribly, unless the Slayer came and saved her.

But she couldn't banish the thought that Buffy was going get here just so they could die together as a family.

* * *

"Bollocks."

When Crowley had invaded Sam Winchester's mind he'd seen the man trapped in a delusion of Gadreel's making; the dynamic duo was doing their usual hunter nonsense and working on a zombie cheerleader case of all things. Now the demon stood on a blank, white plane occupied only by the diminutive blonde, her legs hooked into a wooden stool as she flipped through the photos on a tablet. "Hello," Buffy said distractedly. "I'm just remembering my failures. You want to come see?"

"Didn't know you were such a fan of the Matrix," quipped the demon as he tentatively approached. He stood behind her, watching, as Buffy lingered on each photo a few seconds before moving on. The pictures themselves were static, tableaus of important moments that led unerringly towards tragedy, until right before she swiped left. Then the images moved in fast forward, the deeds coming to completion…

…A younger Buffy frozen with her head plunged into a pool, spray flung about as The Master held her down… _she flopped and shuddered and was still_ …

…The first time she'd made love, trapped in ecstasy as she lay under Angel… _she huddled, weeping, knowing that it was her fault that Angel's soul was gone_ …

…Angelus' sneer mocking her in a cemetery… _she rushed to the school library only to find Kendra dead and her friends injured or missing_ …

…Swinging a punch at Faith while they fought on the dark Slayer's balcony… _she plunged the Mayor's blade into Faith's gut and watched her fall_ …

…Arriving home, nose poised above a bouquet of beautiful blue flowers… _she rushed into the living room to shake her mother's dead body, pleading desperately_ …

…And finally, Glory standing in an overly large men's shirt looking right at Dawn… _she fell to her knees as the Hellgod slaughtered the Knights of Byzantium and then was gone with her sister_ …

Crowley lifted his eyebrows, baffled, as the Slayer kept flipping through these over and over, her expression unchanging and her eyes locked on the screen. "It's important I remember I'm a failure," Buffy said impassively. "I mean, look at what I've done. Look at what terrible things that have happened because _I'm_ the Slayer. Me. Buffy Anne Summers. I'm sure if someone else had been Chosen none of this would have–"

"–Happened," she finished as they stood before the bookshelves in the Magic Box.

"Bloody hell," cursed Crowley under his breath as he swept his gaze all around. "What's this then?"

Buffy kept placing the book, stopping, getting lost in thought, then dropping her hand and walking away. After a few steps her visage blinked and she was suddenly back to placing the book. She paused in her routine. "This is where it first crossed my mind that we were going to lose. Glory was too powerful. She's a _god_. But if she won, if she killed Dawn, then I wouldn't have to worry anymore, I wouldn't have the weight of the world on my shoulders, I could just not care about anything. All l would have to do is stop fighting."

"Cowardice can be a virtue," the demon commented.

"Maybe. Or maybe–"

"–I was distracted." They were in the cemetery. Buffy's lips were a fraction away from Dean's. "I wanted something for _myself_ so badly that I didn't do enough for my sister." They kissed and Crowley rolled his eyes.

"Great. Romantic twaddle." Behind them he caught sight of Dawn laid out on a stone crypt. The young girl was clothed in a white dress and held her hands together upon her belly. She wasn't bound, but she was inexplicably still and did nothing but stare tearfully at the night sky.

When the couple finally separated, Dean drew an ornate dagger from his coat and handed it over to the Slayer. She walked to the altar and plunged the knife into Dawn's heart. "Death is my gift," she said as Crowley approached. He watched as the young girl coughed and died, her blood pouring unchecked down the stone.

"Excuse me?"

"Death–

"–is your gift," declared the First Slayer from across a campfire.

"Okay, no," Buffy replied. "Death is not a gift. My mother just died. I know this. If I have to kill demons because it makes the world a better place, then I kill demons, but it's not a gift to anybody.

"But maybe I missed my chance," she continued. They were back in the white room and the Slayer had resumed flipping through the tablet. "Maybe I was supposed to die protecting Dawn in that abandoned building. But I was too _slow_ , too _thoughtless_ , too wrapped up in my own stupid wants to do what needed to be done.

"I should have given up a long time ago." Buffy placed the book on the shelf. "I should have gotten Dawn better protection when I realized I couldn't protect her.

" _Dean_ could have done it," she said against the hunter's lips. They kissed lightly. "Dean could have protected her. I should have called him sooner, made him come back to help me, but I was too wrapped up in my selfishness to swallow my pride and ask.

"Death is my gift," she said along with the First Slayer. Then alone she stated, "Maybe she was telling me to kill Dawn before Glory could get to her. Then I'd have saved the world instead of destroying it."

"Bloody hell," Crowley muttered as he rubbed his eyes. "I'm getting dizzy."

" _You should not be here!_ "

The demon fell backwards into the desert sand, tackled by an enraged First Slayer. Her voice was garbled, harsh, as if it had been a very long time since she'd spoken and enunciating words was a great effort.

As Buffy looked on, apathetic, the rabid primitive straddled Crowley's body and lifted him by his lapels. "You are not welcome here!" she snarled in his face as she drew a stone dagger out from behind her back. Ruthlessly, the First Slayer plunged it into Crowley's chest. " _Ow!_ " he yelled. "Crazy bint!" He flicked his fingers and the woman flew away…

…Into the bookshelf, startling Buffy and causing her to drop the book. "Wh-What's going on?"

The demon stepped forward, peering intently at the snapping and growling woman pinned to the wood. "This is rather fascinating. Never seen anything like it." He blew a smooch when the First Slayer spat at him. "Someone went and pulled a demon out of Hell and smashed it together with this girl's soul. It's why you've got those fancy powers I imagine."

"She's… possessed?"

"No, _idiot_ , she's become one with the demon. They're impossible to separate. I assume that's why the mummy here has gone starkers; knowing intimately what it's like to be in Hell probably sapped her gourd. Speaking of which…" Crowley snapped his fingers.

They were now in a completely new room, big enough for an angled, manacled rack with several feet of space on each side. An empty surgical instrument table sat on the rack's right. A fire crackled on one wall with a pot of boiling water hung over it. On the other end of the room loomed a heavy metal door with a small, barred top window. From all around echoed faint screams and moans and pleads, and everything was dark and wretched and inherently _terrifying_.

"Where are we?" Buffy demanded. The First Slayer, still plastered to the wall, started shrieking.

"Hell." Crowley snapped his fingers again. The First Slayer was now manacled to the floor, her wrists encircled with metal etched with sigils, and Buffy found herself naked…

…And strapped into the rack.

As Buffy struggled and pulled against her bonds, Crowley stalked around the other woman. She had gone abnormally still as she crouched down making herself as small as possible. Her only movements were to shiver occasionally in fear while casting hateful glances at the demon. "Not going anywhere, half and half," Crowley sneered. "Winchesters gave me the idea, see: demon traps in the cuffs. Oh," he said, now heading for Buffy, "you're not going anywhere either. See your cavewoman ancestor here may not be possessed, but _you_ are. That means _I_ call the shots."

Crowley reached below the rack and began turning a crank. He adjusted the angle so that Buffy's head tipped to the floor and towards the fire. "Now," the demon began cheerfully as the Slayer listened to the metal door creak open and slam closed, "what you're feeling, my fine yellow bird, is called _guilt_. Honestly, you're giving your boy-toy out there a run for his money."

Buffy spared a moment to shoot an icy glare at the demon before resuming her escape efforts. Astonishingly she discovered that even with her Slayer strength she couldn't break the leather straps. "This is _my_ mind," she snarled. "Get. Out."

"Goodness. I'm truly terrified." Crowley smiled cruelly, blinked, and his eyes filmed over in red. "Sorry, love. I'm in charge here." He made a beckoning motion towards the door and Buffy heard the clap of shoes against stone. When the new person came into view, she was horrified to see that it was Dawn, her white dress drenched in blood and her smile a perfect echo of the demon's. Her eyes, from corner to corner, were black.

"So here's how this is going to work," Crowley continued as Demon-Dawn picked up a long, gleaming scalpel from the now full surgical tray, "you seem to think you deserve punishment for your failures. Consider me your fairy godmother, here to grant your fondest wish." The black-eyed version of her sister carefully placed the tip of the knife in the middle dip of Buffy's collar bone. " _Or_ you can realize how pathetic it is for you to have stuck yourself here listening to your greatest hits while your actual sister is out there waiting to die bloody. Then you can go." He companionably patted the Slayer's cheek. "Cheers."

Demon-Dawn began to slice, the blade skimming down Buffy's sternum then plunging deep once it had cleared the bone. The Slayer screamed in agony as her sister reached in and began slowly drawing out her intestines.

She _deserved_ this. It was her fault that Dawn would die. Whatever torments these demons could devise was nothing compared to what she could imagine for herself.

And yet…

Crowley said that Dawn was still out there, still in mortal danger, waiting for her big sister to come and save her. It meant that whatever Glory's plans were for her Key, they had yet to come to fruition.

As Demon-Dawn carefully put down the scalpel and picked up a set of pliers she thought, _so what_? It wasn't as if she could do anything about it. She was incompetent, weak, selfish… _Her sister was pulling off one fingernail after another and the agony was unspeakable_ …

…Then, cutting through her own wails and Demon-Dawn's sadistic giggle, Buffy heard a newborn cry.

She managed to move her head to the left, blinking away the blood that had dripped down from her chest, and saw a pink painted room. Her mother was sitting in a rocking chair next to a white crib, crooning softly, a tiny bundled figure in her arms. An excited, blonde child was perched on one side, bouncing lightly on her toes. She gave her future self a beaming grin of delight.

…And Buffy realized that it wouldn't matter if she succeeded or failed if she didn't even _try_. Dawn was her family. She loved her, and for her sake, for her mother's memory, she would do anything to make sure she was safe. "I don't deserve this," she said quietly…

…And she and a normal-eyed Crowley were back in the white room looking at the tablet. "This is part of my past but not all of it. I need to remember that this is not the whole of what I have done." She dropped the device. It shattered on the floor…

…And they were back in the library, Buffy in the middle of putting away the book. "I'm allowed my doubts, but I can't let them consume me." She let go of the book…

…And she was staring into Dean Winchester's eyes. "And it's not wrong to want things, especially love." She kissed him eagerly…

…And they were across the desert fire looking at the First Slayer. The woman stood motionless and silent, but there was something in her stance that spoke of acceptance and approval. "I am the Slayer. I don't give up. I keep going no matter what." Buffy turned her head up at Crowley. "Thank you. But don't think I will ever, _ever_ forgive you for what you did to me."

"Bollocks." A moment later he was gone…

…And Buffy opened her eyes to see her bedroom ceiling. She sat up slowly and glimpsed the tail end of a plume of red and black smoke disappear down Crowley's gullet. The demon shook his head, discombobulated, before sitting up. When the Slayer turned the other way she found Dean staring concernedly at her from the foot of the bed. Willow and Giles were behind him. "Hey," said the hunter. "Morning, sunshine."

A moment later Buffy burst into tears and collapsed into his arms. Willow also sat on the bed to hug her from behind. The Slayer wailed and clutched Dean's sleeves, finally letting loose the misery and despair she'd walled off ever since her mother had died.

Giles, his eyes watery, cleared his throat and nodded at Crowley. "Good work."

The demon stood, rolled his eyes, and walked to the doorway. "Girl's got quite a lot of issues to work out. What a remarkable mess." He began heading for the stairs and was brought up short by the click of a hammer being cocked.

Sam was standing in the hallway with a gun.


	25. Part II: Chapter 25

6/28/2016 - Moving day approacheth quick so the next chapter after this may be a while coming. Lots of revisions made in previous chapters. I'm sort of going back and forth whether or not to end this at the end of Buffy Season 5 or to continue on and end at SupernaturaI Season 11. It'd be really messing with the Buffy end of things but it might work. If anyone has an opinion one way or another or had some ideas I could toss about it would be awesome :D

Thank you Fanfiction Dot Net's **IoSolUno** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **xxRomanceGirlxx** , and random Guest person for the reviews as always!

Also, thanks bunches for Twisting the Hellmouth's **draconis** for pointing out a huge plot hole. Oops.

As vampire Willow asked, "Questions Comments?" They're always welcome!

* * *

"It's time. It's a big day. It's _time!_ "

The entire room was still. "Crowley, get out of the way," Dean growled.

"That would be lovely," he replied as he pointed upwards, "but _someone_ put a bleeding _demon trap_ up on the ceiling!"

His abrasive tone startled the younger Winchester who promptly jerked and accidentally pulled the trigger. "Ow! Bloody hell!" Crowley cursed at the hole in his chest as Willow yelped and the rest of them reflexively ducked.

"It's. _Time_ ," Sam snarled as he pulled the hammer again. Down the hallway they could see Tara pacing in a circle saying, "time, big day," over and over again.

"All right, Sammy," Dean said calmly, "it's time. Time for what?"

"Need to go. It's a big day. It's _TIME!_ "

"Okay, Groot, I get it. Go ahead and go. We won't stop you."

With a last warning glower Sam turned on his heel and headed for the stairs with a gleeful Tara close behind. The others listened as the two of them hurried downwards then out the door. Willow rushed for the bedroom window and peered out. "Sam dropped the gun on the porch and they're just jogging away," she announced. "I'm going to go follow." The witch waited for Giles' acknowledging nod then pushed past Crowley to chase after their addled friends.

"I should–"

"No, Buffy," Giles said gently, "I told you before, there's no need for you to take responsibility for everything. Dean…?"

"Yeah, I'll make sure she doesn't go anywhere." The Watcher fully intended to interrogate Dean on how exactly he was going to keep her in place when Crowley snarled, "Before I'm treated to an explicit peep show will one of you people get rid of this _bleeding trap?_ "

* * *

While Giles was busy scraping a line through the demon trap that had been painted as a safeguard against Crowley's possible duplicity, Sam and Tara headed unerringly towards their destination. Either luck or magic held them safe as they crossed streets and private residences without harm or interference. When they arrived, Willow realized it was the same construction site that they had rescued Castiel from all those weeks ago. A skewed sign on one wall proclaimed that the building was indefinitely delayed.

She slipped into a nearby alleyway as soon as the duo disappeared through an opening in the fence. Traffic had been detoured away from any intervening roads by haphazardly placed roadblocks and the surrounding area was practically deserted. The Hellgod was nowhere in sight, but her lackeys were easily spotted. Then Willow realized what was rising into the sky.

It was a tall, narrow, pyramidal tower, made of a mad jumble of construction materials. Architecturally it looked as if the workers had just started with whatever was handy and then built it up on instinct. Either way, the thing seemed precarious, but those at the top hammering and drilling appeared inured to the danger and continued building upwards with a single-minded intensity.

Willow nearly charged into the site when Glory appeared nd arrowed straight for Sam and Tara. Thankfully the Hellgod did nothing other than speak harshly with them before then storming away. The pair then began helping the other humans with constructing the tower.

She'd seen enough and turned to head back to Buffy's. At least they now knew where to go.

Now they just needed a plan to take down a god.

* * *

"You," Glory snarled as she grabbed the nearest minion's arm, "the Slayer's back in town and she'll be coming. Get someone to make sure the witchy girlfriend and brother beanstalk don't pull anything funny. Then go get reinforcements and arm up before she brings her little gang here or I'll start the blood-letting early. _Get my drift?_ " The vermin swallowed and stammered his acquiescence before hurrying off.

Well, she knew the blonde midget would come and try to wreck her plans eventually. The girl just had no common sense. All they needed to do was shore up some defenses and the Hellgod could finally go home.

Popping the Slayer's head off on the way out the door would work wonderfully as a final goodbye to this stupid dimension.

* * *

Crowley disappeared as soon as he was freed. After Buffy summarized how the demon had terrified her out of her catatonia, they all assumed he had retreated due to self-preservation. The Slayer then grabbed a clean set of clothes out of her drawers and headed for the bathroom. When Giles and Dean stood uneasily in the doorway, she told them, "Unless you're going to watch me pee, _move_."

Abashed, the two of them stepped out of the way. Soon as she had disappeared to perform her ablutions, Giles lifted a questioning eyebrow at Dean. "Look, man," the hunter started to explain, "I was just thinking of sittin' in that chair of hers and making sure she doesn't go out and do something stupid."

The Watcher adjusted his spectacles, clearly suspicious. "Just make sure she gets some rest. Goodness knows we all need a little. In the meantime, I'll send Spike to see if there's any information to be had at Glory's mansion."

"Yeah, okay. Sam's laptop should be in our trunk if you guys wanna use it."

"Willow should be back soon. I'll make sure she knows."

Dean handed over his keys as a fresher looking Buffy came yawning out of the bathroom. "Wake me up in an hour?" she asked.

"Will do," affirmed the hunter. Giles gave his Slayer a paternal kiss on the forehead before heading down the stairs.

Dean and Buffy looked at each other for an awkward moment, uncertain of how to proceed. Then the young woman leaned in and gave an exaggerated sniff. "If I promise not to go anywhere, will you go clean yourself up? You smell like two days' worth of sweat and gunpowder."

The hunter lifted his armpit and had a whiff. "I'd like to think that it's my sexy man-aroma."

Buffy snorted and pushed Dean towards her mother's old room. "Your stuff's still in there. Go, before your stench is permanently fixed to my house."

"Fine."

Twenty minutes later, a cleaner Dean emerged from the master bedroom's bathroom to find Buffy curled up asleep on her mother's mattress. He gave her a gentle nudge and she gave him a snore in response. The hunter shrugged and plopped down on the other side of the bed. In less than a minute he, too, was sleeping, the past few harrowing days finally catching up to him, and the the two of them caught some well-needed rest.

* * *

Spike told Giles to stick it where the sun don't shine when the Watcher made his request, then pointed at the late afternoon sun streaming through the curtained window. The older man sputtered a little before realizing his mistake and actually stunned the vampire by _apologizing_. Giles then left to go investigate Glory's mansion himself after handing Spike the Impala's keys for Willow.

The witch returned as Giles was driving off and quickly retrieved the laptop. She immediately began a web search for any information on Glorificus or the Key that they might have missed. Bored, Spike was reduced to watching cartoon reruns on the television. An odd silence descended several minutes later and the vampire realized that the clacking of keyboard keys had stopped. Willow was slumped over onto the couch, napping.

That minuscule amount of conscience his soulless self still had told him it was a bad idea, but he couldn't resist taking the opportunity to go peep at a sleeping Buffy. She wasn't in her bed, but a delicate snore floated out from Joyce's old room.

The sight before him filled the vampire with rage. The pretty-boy hunter took up most of the bed, but as they were both fully clothed Spike at least didn't want to gouge his own eyes out. Buffy was lying with her head on Dean's shoulder, one arm flopped across his chest. His arm was around her, almost possessively. The two of them looked so peaceful that Spike had to refrain himself from kicking them awake.

The vampire had known for a while now that Buffy's heart would never belong to him. That ponce _Angel_ was all she ever had room for even while she pretended to care for that corn-fed twat in the Initiative. There was a point where he'd had to accept his lot and live with it or end up becoming mad from wanting. But then this angsty, angry _wanker_ shows up and all of sudden she starts seeing cupids and roses? How fair was _that?_

Spike headed back downstairs and pretended to be interested in the idiotic adventures of three super-powered, bug-eyed, neon-colored girls. As soon as this whole Hellgod thing was over with he needed to figure out how to get that sodding chip out of his head and make sure Dean Winchester was out of the picture.

Permanently.

* * *

Giles returned at dusk with an ancient tome and bloody knuckles. A few of Glory's minions had been lingering at the mansion and, after he had subjected them to some violence, they'd fled. That left him free to explore and led to the discovery of the book detailing the impending ritual.

He also related finding Ben's tiny closet in one corner of the Hellgod's debris filled bedroom (apparently she hadn't bothered to replenish her furniture after Willow had smashed it all). Any pity they may have felt for the young man was quickly quashed by the announcement that the ritual around the Key would take place around 2am _that night_. That gave them only a little over seven hours to figure out a plan.

Dean left and came back twenty minutes later with fast food for everyone. He even did the courtesy of stopping by a butcher's to buy blood for an unusually antagonistic Spike. They all choked down their sustenance quickly and quietly. Xander arrived as they were cleaning the garbage away with the news that Anya would be fine, but that a long road to recovery lay ahead. He sat down at the dining table as Dean passed out bottles of beer and Giles began to illustrate the coming ritual.

"It's rather simple, really," he began. "The issue is the timing. All of the planets and the dimensions must be in alignment for this to work and unfortunately that's occurring in–" Giles looked at his watch, "–about six hours. A sort of a 'doorway' appears at that time and Glory can utilize the 'Key' to unlock it."

"So what's with the weirdo tower?" Willow asked. Once everyone had awoken she had assured Dean that his brother was all right and had tried her best to describe the misshapen edifice.

"Apparently she needs to be as close to the Hellmouth as possible while being clear of any sort of spiritual or mystical interference. Sunnydale High School might be directly on top but I believe whatever energies the Mayor used to transform himself are still lingering. I'm guessing Glory just chose the most convenient place to build up and away from any ground level magics that might be floating about."

"And?" Buffy asked quietly.

Giles stared wretchedly at the pages, unwilling to continue. He drew in a sigh when Buffy repeated her question in a far more aggressive tone. "The, um, Key… the energy of the Key needs to be _released_ in order to work."

"What does that mean?"

" _Blood_ ," answered Spike. "The Key's human now, so her power is in her blood, yeah? They're gonna bleed the little nibblet dry."

"Yes," Giles affirmed as the others made sounds of disbelief and consternation. "But if the power is drained or eliminated before then…"

"Hold on," interjected Buffy. "'Drained'? You said the Key's power is in Dawn's blood. Are you talking about _draining_ my sister? Are you saying we might need to _kill_ her?"

"The General said when Glory uses the Key the dimensions merge and we all die. If we can't get Dawn away and the hour rolls around–"

"No. We're not doing that. No way in hell."

"Buffy–"

"I said _no! End of discussion!_ " the Slayer shouted as she leapt up from her chair.

"No it's _not_ the bleeding end of this and you _will LISTEN!_ " responded her Watcher furiously. "Every single person on Earth will _die_ if we fail. Are you willing to weigh one life over _eight billion?_."

The others waited as the pair scowled at one another. "Go on," Buffy continued quietly, "tell me how we'd do it, huh? You want to slit her throat? Maybe we can use one of Dean's guns. Or maybe we should just _smother_ her so that we don't risk letting her blood get out and opening that door."

Chagrined, but still obstinate, Giles said, "Buffy, I know it's hard but I don't see any other choice. We still don't have any other way of defeating Glory."

While the others debated the point back and forth, Dean continued drinking his beer. Slowly the others began to take sides: Spike joining Giles in advocating for taking Dawn out preemptively and definitively shutting down Glory's pending ritual; and Willow and Xander joining Buffy in arguing for more time. The latter group was adamant that murdering an innocent was not the answer; that the others were talking about sacrificing a loved one for _expediency_.

Eventually all five of them were standing and yelling. Giles called Buffy stubborn and blind and she shot back by accusing him of being as bloodthirsty as Spike. Willow and Xander were both shouting that there absolutely _had_ to be another way while the vampire tried appealing to their sense of vengeance.

The argument had become loud and stupid and pointless. Dean finally shot up and shouted over them all, "All right, all right everyone _SHUT UP!_ " Once he'd gotten everyone's attention he glared at Giles. "We ain't going out and just killing Buffy's sister."

"But–"

"I know, I know, Glory does her thing and everyone dies. Look, we gotta at least _try_ to save the girl before we go stringing her up. Buffy," he said quietly, "If it comes down to it, I'll do it. I'll make it quick."

"Dean–"

"I'm sorry, but your Watcher's right. It goes too far we all die. _Badly_. I know you don't wanna see that go down." The Slayer crossed her arms and glared furiously but didn't contradict him. Dean shrugged at the general group. "The best scenario would be to get her outta there before any of this crap starts."

"Yeah, okay," Spike ventured, "but I still don't hear any sort of plan other than heading in there and lettin' Glory pound our faces in."

"That General," Dean said thoughtfully, "the head Knight dude. He was talking about Glory being in that human vessel. All we gotta do is get her to be Ben again and take him out."

"Perhaps," responded Giles, "but I can't possibly think of a way of _forcing_ her to transform."

They were quiet for a moment, then Willow cried, "Ooo! I know! I know! _Toth!_ "

"Yeah, Toth!" added Xander. "Wait, no, we killed that guy. Why are we talking about him?"

"Not Toth himself, dummy, the spell he used! You know, when you became cool-Xander and dopey-Xander? He meant to make person-Buffy and uber-Slayer-Buffy. But one can't exist without the other so if he had killed person-Buffy–"

"You telling me," Dean interrupted, "that we can separate Ben and Glory? How? Only way I've seen something like that done took a key from Oz and that's way back in the Bunker."

"We could consult some of the other books at the shop," said Giles. "At least, ones that _someone_ hasn't sucked all the power out of."

Embarrassed, Willow apologized. "But-But-But see? Now we have some plans! And we don't have to, you know, do that thing!"

"The Dagon Sphere," Buffy stated suddenly. "It's an orb the monks sent that's supposed to repel Glory," she explained to Dean.

"Should be in the basement of the shop," said Giles. "Willow, let's go."

"Hey," interjected Xander, "if no one minds I'm heading back to the hospital and checking on Anya."

Buffy nodded. "I'll text you when we're ready." She turned towards Spike. "Think you can go to that construction site and do a little reconnaissance?"

"Well, now that it's _dark_ ," the vampire replied, glancing pointedly at Giles, "not a problem."

"What're we going to do?" Dean asked as the others headed out the door.

"Stock up on firepower."

"Sounds good. Plenty in the trunk." He suddenly grimaced. "Just wish I knew where Crowley went. He better be getting that Hand of God so we can do Amara next."

* * *

Glorificus lifted her eyebrows at the well-dressed figure that had suddenly appeared in front of her. "Hey. I know you…"

"King of Hell," greeted Crowley. "Had a proposition for you that I'm quite certain you're going to _love_."


	26. Part II: Chapter 26

7/1/2016 - You ever start writing and then just have to keep going? It's really not helping me pack. That and the four year old who keeps unpacking her toys isn't helping either.

Anyways, only a chapter or three left in the Buffy arc. Will have to decide where to go when I cross that bridge. I'm fairly certain I'm going to finish through season 11 of Supernatural. From there I don't know since, you know, season 12 is so far away :,(

Thanks again to Fanfiction Dot Net's **IoSolUno** , **xxRomanceGirlxx** , and **thedarkpokemaster** for your reviews! Where did you go, mystery guest?

* * *

Glorificus stared, her brow furrowed in concentration. "You," she said. "You were in our–in _Ben's_ car. You brought us to the Key."

"That's me, love," Crowley confirmed. "Always ready to help those in need."

She spread her arms questioningly. "And? What are you doing here now? I've got my Key and I'm rarin' to go! Don't need _your_ smokey little butt for anything."

The demon craned his neck upwards to admire the looming tower. Final parts were being hammered in and a narrow, jutting precipice was having its last bits put into place. Humans and minions were still scurrying about doing busywork and for the most part avoided the Hellgod and her visitor. Fear seemed to be the general motivator; the humans took one look at Crowley's face and ran, and the lackeys did their best to avoid their irascible god.

"I've got a little problem," explained the demon. "You see, there's this archangel, Lucifer, supposed to be in this Cage for all eternity, except the bugger keeps getting out. This last time he seized my kingdom, a trauma I imagine you might sympathize with."

"Kingdom?" Glory scoffed. "What kingdom?"

" _Hell_ , darling."

"Huh." She tapped her lip thoughtfully. "Last I heard Azazel was the big man in charge."

"Dead," Crowley smirked. "Which is what brings me to my proposal. I suppose you noticed that your favorite yellow bird has a few additions to her flock."

"What, the Brothers Stupid? They're just humans. A little larger than most, but still just walking meatbags."

"Yes, Azazel probably thought so too. And Lilith. And Abaddon. And Cain."

Glory lifted her eyebrows, confused, and asked, "And this concerns me because…?"

"The first _demon_ , the last _Knight of Hell_ , the first bleeding _murderer_ ; they're all _dead_ because they underestimated the Winchesters." Crowley pointed at himself. "I _don't_. And therefore, I'm still here."

The demon watched, perplexed, as the Hellgod started walking off. "Where the bloody hell are you going?"

She pointed up the tower. Crowley peered up and saw a familiar, shaggy-haired figure hauling an I-beam along with one of the other mindless peons. "There's one of them now. I'm going to go take his head off and use it as a soccer ball. Problem solved."

"Won't work."

"Uh, yes it will," the Hellgod said condescendingly, "Cockroaches without heads tend to die?"

"Yes but these roaches always, _always_ , come back. Trust me, love. It's like these morons have a permanent 'Get Out of Jail Free' card."

Glory threw her arms up in the air petulantly. "Ugh, fine! I help you spank Lucifer and you do… _what_ exactly?"

"I'll–"

Crowley's proposition was cut off as one of the Hellgod's ugly, verminous helpers came mincing up. "Forgive me, oh most splendorous one," it wheedled, "but some of your most humble flock would beg you to reconsider working with this most _unworthy_ , _unclean_ , perver–" The minion's entire back and neck cracked at unnatural angles at a snap of Crowley's fingers. It gurgled, doing its best to scream, then its misshapen corpse flopped to the dirt. The demon then turned around to blink crimson at the small group of its fellows that were trying to sneak up on him from behind. These ones prostrated themselves rather than risk mutilation as Crowley turned back towards his potential ally. The red in his eyes faded away.

"I, darling, will do all I can to see that your ceremony goes off without a hitch. As you can see, I don't like interruptions."

The Hellgod and the demon smiled at one another in a shared moment of sadistic glee. Glory agreed to his terms, but refused to seal it with a kiss; Crowley's usual modus operandi when sealing a deal. "Your loss," he remarked. The demon then vanished.

Glory didn't _quite_ trust Crowley's intentions, but at the very least the underworld creature matched her appetite for death. If he failed, she promised herself he'd die bloody and slow. Hell demons were sturdier than other demons, and that hardiness would amount to a considerable length of time to try all sorts of tortures.

After all, once she was a god again, she could even make it last _forever_.

* * *

As they weren't sure _exactly_ how the Dagon Sphere would weaken the Hellgod, Dean and Buffy removed from the Impala as many different varieties of weaponry as they could find. They then spread them neatly over a padded blanket on the dining room table. So far they had angel blades, knives both silver and steel, axes, machetes, several varieties of handguns, and two types of shotguns. Dean tried to convince Buffy to add a few blowtorches, but she wasn't certain if she could explain to anyone how the middle of the town had suddenly become engulfed by a conflagration.

They had a little over five hours to go. Giles and Willow called to tell them that they had figured something out in terms of a spell and were now just trying to choose ingredients. The Watcher said that it would take a bit of trial and error to make sure what they did actually worked and didn't just explode in their faces. Having been on the wrong end of a witch's spell more than once, Dean was happy to let them take as much time as they needed to get it right.

Spike also checked in by texting that he'd found a good hidey-hole on a roof neighboring Glory's base. The misshapen tower was pretty much completed and he guessed that the point sticking out at the very top was where they were going to hold the ritual. Several pictures followed which included a layout of the area and vaguely recognizable shots of Sam and Tara. He also thought he glimpsed Dawn inside the construction manager's mobile office, but in the dark and from a distance it was difficult to tell. Buffy warned him not to do anything rash and he responded with a combination of emojis that were obviously meant to convey something obscene.

Dean peeked over her shoulder. "Whoa. Gotta remember that one."

Buffy clicked her screen off and rolled her eyes. " _Boys_ ," she sighed. The Slayer picked up a handgun and dumped it into the hunter's hand. "Show me."

"I'm warning you, last time a girl asked me that she had to reciprocate."

"Perv," she muttered. "I meant show me how to handle this thing–and if you make another comment I will shove one of these knives up your nose."

Disappointed that he couldn't respond to her second unintentional innuendo, Dean grabbed another gun and demonstrated how to flip the safety, load and reload, and how to hold it for maximum accuracy. The Slayer ended up being a quick study. Then they did the same with one of the shotguns. This time, however, Buffy needed a little more instruction.

"You-you put that there you're gonna regret it," Dean stammered while trying to stifle his hilarity.

Buffy looked down to where she'd cushioned the stock against the outside of her breast and under her armpit. "That's where it's most squishy. I thought it made a good pocket."

"Yeah, and soon as the recoil hits you're gonna de-boob yourself. Here," instructed the hunter as he stood beside her and corrected first her right hand on the forestock, then moved behind to push the other end to her shoulder. "See? Keep it tight here. Look down the barrel, see the sight point? Line it up with whatever you're going to blast and pull the trigger."

Buffy murmured an acknowledgment, her heart suddenly pounding a shade too fast. She leaned back slightly, savoring his warmth and his smell, the firearm quivering a little in her hands. After a few silent moments Dean swallowed, reached out, and took the gun from her. He reached beyond Buffy to place it on the table as she turned slowly in place and looked up at him. "You know, none of this may work. This might be our last few hours on earth. I feel like… I feel like there are _other_ things we could be doing."

Dean snorted. "I thought I was the one who was supposed to use the end-of-the-world line."

Buffy gave him a nervous grin. "Welcome to the modern age! Women can _drive_ and even _vote_ now."

"Ah, feminism: the bane of all men. Does this mean you're the boss? Should I bow down to your will?"

Buffy reached up, grabbed two fistfuls of his hair, and pulled him down to press her lips against his. Surprised, the hunter didn't respond at first, then his arms were around her and he dove in with a passion that surprised them both. When they finally parted, breathing hard, she looked him in the eyes and whispered, "Are you going to leave this time?"

"No," he murmured back and took her hand. "Are you gonna deck me again?"

"Maybe. Depends on what's happening next." As he pulled Buffy towards the stairs, Dean looked back at her, and for the first time since they'd met she saw a small smile completely lacking in cynicism.

They didn't _quite_ make it to her doorway before he pressed her up against the wall to kiss her again on the lips, her ear, her neck, while she raked her nails up his back and wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her forward, still locked together, and they tumbled into her bedroom.

The pair fell onto Buffy's bed, shedding each other's clothing in between meeting lips and entangling tongues. By the time Dean could wrap his head around who was in his arms, they were skin to skin. Buffy's back was arching while he savored the feeling of entering her with a divine slowness.

And for the next hour, Buffy and Dean allowed themselves to love someone new and to forget the horrors of their past and future.

* * *

With three hours to go, the group met back at Buffy's house to plan. If the Slayer seemed a little flushed and the hunter a little too relaxed no one seemed to notice. Spike, however, could smell quite clearly the evidence of what they had been doing. That strengthened his resolve to find _some_ way to gouge out the Initiative's chip so he could tear Dean's neck out. He buried his seething fury, however, in order to concentrate on the mission; rescuing the nibblet took priority.

 _For now_.

Willow was inordinately excited over the spell they'd managed to cook up. "You see, we reverse engineered the soul restoration spell we used on Angelus, because gypsy magic info– _fwoosh!_ all gone–and then researched the magic that _Toth_ used on Xander because that was really important and then we looked into what happens when a vampire becomes a vampire and no longer had a _soul_ and–"

"Basically we've got it figured out," interjected an exhausted Giles. "We think."

"You ' _think_ '?" Dean demanded incredulously.

"Well, unless one of you is volunteering to be a Guinea pig we don't exactly have the resources to do a test run. There's a problem, however."

"What? Does a hex bag have to be anally inserted or something?"

While Giles gaped at the hunter's crude inquiry, Willow answered, "I need another witch. I need Tara. A _whole_ Tara."

"So how do we make that happen?" asked Buffy.

"I think," Xander began, then paused. "Yes, it's a _thought_. And it's growing. I do believe I have an idea!"

"Good," Buffy stated and picked up a shotgun. "Everyone grab whatever weapon looks like fun. It's time to go."

* * *

They were only six now, and since the Impala's damage made it too conspicuous everyone squeezed into Giles' BMW with the weapons in the trunk. Spike commandeered the front seat by claiming age seniority and the rest of them sat in the back, Buffy on Dean's lap and Willow on Xander's. "You know," the witch commented, "if this were high school and I was still into the mustache crowd this might be awkward."

"Will, if I wasn't so sure I was going to _die_ in a few hours we would be beyond awkward at this point."

"Aw, you're so sweet."

Buffy lifted an eyebrow at Dean's grimace. She didn't bother to ask since the physical reaction to having her bouncing up and down on his lap was evidentiary. "Whacha thinkin' about?" she teased.

He gave her a pained expression. " _Baseball_."

The vampire glared through the rearview mirror.

Levity disappeared the moment Giles parked his car. They were a few blocks away from the construction site. After retrieving their weapons they jogged into a nearby alley. Xander whispered something to Buffy and, as quietly as possible, hurried off to his task with Willow close behind.

"We break into that office, get Dawn, and we run," the Slayer whispered to the others. "We need to prevent Glory from starting the ritual on time and she can't do that without her Key." She then noticed that Spike was paying attention to the sky instead of her instructions. "Hey! _Hello?_ "

"We've got a problem," he responded and pointed upwards. "I found Dawn."

They all looked where the vampire indicated. At the top of the tower, on the thin outcropping, stood a small figure in a flowing dress, her long, straight hair whipping about wildly in the wind. Some sort of restraints had to be around her arms and legs as her manic struggles would have otherwise sent her over the side. A thin, adolescent keening drifted down.

"We got another one," said Dean. He gestured towards the site entrance. A mob of tense, uncertain minions had begun to cluster there armed with a variety of pointy weapons. They held them with more determination than skill, but once the final one was in place they could see that the vermin could overwhelm their opponents with sheer numbers alone.

" _Great_ ," Buffy sighed. "Spike, first chance you get, go up there and get Dawn. The rest of us need to clear a path."

As Giles checked the safeties on his two firearms, Buffy drew out a handgun and a machete. The angel blade glimmered from inside her jacket. Spike hauled a shotgun out from within his coat. Dean cocked his own pump-action Winchester and smirked. "After you."

Buffy nodded determinedly and strode out from the alley.

It was a big day.

It was _time_.


	27. Part II: Chapter 27

7/3/2016 - My hellacious move isn't yet done, but thank goodness for grandparents getting the kiddo out of the way. I've been managing paragraphs and sentences wherever possible so the following chapter might be a bit choppy. Let me know if there's anything that needs to be corrected.

Thanks as always to Fanfiction Dot Net's **IoSolUno** and **thedarkpokemaster** for their reviews! Big, BIG thanks to **xxRomanceGirlxx** for pointing out an enormous plot hole in a previous chapter!

Please feel free to leave a review, even if it's just to say "Hello"! Now, on with the Battle of the Mad Tower…

* * *

They stopped when a peal of malicious, mocking laughter filled the air. Glorificus stood upon a stack of bricks, arms folded contemptuously and lips curled in disdain. "Is this a joke? You guys bringing _guns_ to a god-fight?"

"We didn't bring just guns," Buffy replied. "Here, catch!"

From a pocket, the Slayer withdrew and hurled an object that sailed over the minion mob. Glory reflexively caught it and staggered, her free hand leaping to her temple. The glowing light within the Dagon Sphere illuminated her nauseated, astonished features. "This is–"

The Hellgod was abruptly cut off by an explosion of crumbling masonry as a five ton wrecking ball burst from the eastern wall and whacked her off her perch. She crashed into the front of the tower base.

Xander gave himself a resounding cheer and manipulated the crane boom to prepare for another pass. The others prepared as Glory's sycophants, indignant at the assault of their beloved deity, let loose brave cries and attacked.

Many of them were felled immediately by gunfire, but a significant amount made it through. Buffy's group fell back towards the alleyway and forced the horde into a choke point. Dean drew a Bowie and Buffy a machete and tossed Giles their firearms. They then began whittling down their attackers two or three at a time.

At a hurried command from the Slayer, Spike backed up, bouncing on the pads of his feet, until she yelled, "Now!" The vampire hurtled forward, used his preternatural strength to leap up, and caught the underside of a fire escape one handed. He then heaved himself over the vermin's heads and landed, tumbling, clear on the other side of the mob. Those few that turned to face him met their end at the barrel of his shotgun. Once he was clear, he tossed the firearm, raced past the still groggy Hellgod, and began rapidly ascending the lunatic jumble of stairs and climbing apparatuses.

* * *

Glory pushed herself up to a sitting position, cursing under her breath, and realized she still had the Dagon Sphere clutched in one hand. Furiously she crushed the glowing orb into powder and stood to take vengeance on the Slayer's bratty little friends. Barring her way was a black-eyed Willow, her hand on her witchy girlfriend's hair, who clamped a palm onto the Hellgod's forehead and snapped out a short incantation.

A jarring flow of magic stabbed through Glory's entire being. When it was done, she stumbled backwards against a pillar breathing hard. The Hellgod made an internal assessment and found her thoughts riding perilously close to madness. "A hole," she cried despairingly. " _You made a hole!_ "

Willow glared at Glory in a way that made the Hellgod want to rip the witch's eyes out. Then the girlfriend grasped her lover's hand, her demeanor surprisingly sane, and Glory knew where the gap in her psyche had gone. She needed another brain, another soul to eat. Fortunately, there was a feast standing right before her.

* * *

As Willow and Tara faced one another their eyes filled with tears. It had only been a few days since Tara's mind had been torn but it had felt like weeks, months, _years_. "Oh, Willow," Tara sobbed, "I got so _lost!_ "

"It's okay," the other witch whispered, gently placing her hands on her beloved's face, "I'm here. Nothing's going to harm you ever again."

"You sure about that?" threatened an incensed Glory right before the wrecking ball smacked her away again.

"I'm so awesome," Xander said proudly. Figuring that the Hellgod wasn't quite so stupid to fall for the tactic a third time, he dropped out of the driver's compartment and tried to figure out where he might be of use.

* * *

As the now completed pair of witches clambered into the shadowed back of an empty dump truck to begin the long preparation for the spell, Spike reached the top of the edifice. A terrified Dawn stood at the tip of the protrusion, her wrists manacled and chained to the floor. The vampire rushed out, pulled one of Dean's lockpick sets from his coat, and started fiddling with the girl's bonds. "Not to worry, love," he muttered. "Get these off of you in no time."

From behind him a condescending voice uttered, " _Really_."

The vampire was violently pulled away from his work and slammed into a tower pillar with a loud clang. When his head cleared he saw Crowley standing in front of Buffy's sister, a sardonic smirk on his lips.

"You working with the Hell-bitch down there, mate?" Spike growled as he tested the unseen bonds on his splayed limbs. He gritted his teeth as the pressure on his body increased. The metal behind him groaned in protest.

"For the moment." At the demon's affirmation, Dawn let loose a shriek and renewed her futile efforts to break free of her restraints. Crowley turned slightly and said to her, "Not quite time yet, darling. You got a good fifteen–sorry, fourteen minutes or so."

"Don't you dare touch her, you sodding–"

" _Language!_ Don't you see there's a minor about? Now," Crowley continued as he strolled towards the vampire, "I _could_ make this whole unfortunate situation go away. Fancy trading away your soul?"

"I haven't _got_ one, you twat!"

"Oh. That's right." Crowley gestured downwards and Spike fell from his perch. The demon gave him a little wave. "Toodles," he called and flicked his fingers to the right. The vampire found himself swept off the tower to the sound of Dawn's screams.

* * *

At hearing her sister's voice, the Slayer yanked her machete from the back of the last fighting minion (the remainder being dead, dying, or fleeing) and jerked her sight upwards. "Oh God," she gasped as the tow-headed figure plummeted downwards and landed hard on his front. Vampiric physiology made Spike sturdy enough to not splatter all over the area, but it didn't save him from being seriously injured.

As Buffy, Dean, and Giles rushed to his aid he pushed himself up to his elbows with great effort and proceeded to cough out a mouthful of blood. "Sodding… demon," Spike croaked before collapsing, unconscious.

"Crowley," snarled Dean. He exchanged a quick glance with Buffy. She gripped the angel blade tight then sprinted for the first set of stairs. Upon reaching the first step she vaulted up, but was stopped short by the sudden appearance of the demon and his smug smile.

Without preamble, Buffy lunged and Crowley dodged. She sliced across the demon's chest with the blade and he vanished, only to reappear at her back. As she swiveled around for another pass, the demon quipped, "If I were you, I'd be more concerned with _her_."

The Slayer turned back only to be struck by the fist of an irate Hellgod. She managed to turn enough to alleviate the full impact of the blow but still slammed into the railing and had to grip tight to avoid toppling over the side.

* * *

Giles and Dean quickly tried to follow the Slayer and were suddenly inundated by Glory's insane victims. Knowing that these combatants were human and innocent, the two quickly holstered their weapons and resorted to hand-to-hand.

There was neither rhyme nor reason to the madmen's efforts other than the overwhelming desire to take the pair down. Their lack of organization or technique was balanced by their tenacity as Giles discovered when he broke an pale, auburn-haired man's nose and he completely ignored the injury. Fortunately, two shortly became three as Xander, armed with half a 2x4, ran up and thwacked Giles' opponent on the back of the head.

Dean was being held from behind by a robust black man as the wings-obsessed patient from the hunter's first foray into Sunnydale Memorial charged at him. Wings-man got a boot to the chest for his efforts. The other loosened his grip when the hunter shoved his feet backwards and rammed him into the bottom of the tower. Dean untangled himself from his swarthy opponent and was promptly punched in the face. He recognized the feel of _this_ particular fist, having been on the receiving end more than once.

His next fight was with Sam.

* * *

The battle between Buffy and Glory had devolved into a chase with the Slayer frantic to reach the pinnacle of the tower and the Hellgod determined to pull her down. They were a third of the way up when Buffy spotted an abandoned girder. She grabbed it and swung, clobbering the Hellgod on the side of the head. While Glory was reeling, the Slayer leapt up to the next ascending mechanism, several ladders welded together for what looked like no logical reason, and pulled herself up. She got up three rungs when a hand grasped her ankle. Effortlessly she was hauled down from her grip and slammed down onto a walkway.

Buffy gasped as she tried to sit up. At least one of her ribs had broken and was now stabbing her with each breath. The ankle that had been grabbed throbbed mercilessly, either sprained or broken. She put one hand on the nearest support to regain a standing position and limped stubbornly on her path, hoping against everything that she could reach the ladder again.

The clang of heels against metal indicated the approach of the Hellgod. Buffy felt a pull on her hair and was painfully yanked backwards onto the floor. Her head banged hard on the metal surface and her vision swam. When Glory knelt down and straddled her stomach, Buffy reached out and grabbed the Hellgod's hair in return. They started rolling about the walkway, Glory shrieking in indignation, as their Hellgod-to-Slayer throwdown degenerated into an old fashioned girl fight.

* * *

Dean backed up slowly as the younger Winchester advanced, fists clenched. "C'mon, Sammy," Dean warned, "you know this isn't gonna end well." He ducked under a swing. "You've known since you were seven that I punch way harder than you."

Relentlessly, Sam threw another right hook. Dean dodged and came around with a punch of his own straight to his brother's gut. The taller man collapsed, retching. "Toldja," Dean said, then kicked him in the chin.

He confirmed that Sam was unconscious then craned his head up to the top of the tower. The hunter could barely make out Dawn and the black-suited figure that stood before her. Knowing that the demon could be starting the ritual at any moment, Dean pulled out his shotgun and climbed quickly up the first set of stairs.

* * *

Crowley clicked the button on his smartphone and read the screen. "Time's up, love," he told Dawn.

"No, _no_ , wait!" she cried. "You said… You said you'd make this stop if someone could sell you a soul, right?"

"I'm listening."

The young girl drew herself up and swallowed. She clenched her fists, determined to be brave, and drew in a long, shuddering breath. "Fine. Let's make a deal."

* * *

"Enough!" Glory roared as she expended a few handfuls of hair to quickly straighten to a standing position. Before Buffy could react, the Hellgod reached down and wrapped her fingers around her neck. The Slayer managed to just insert her own fingers enough inside Glory's grip to wheeze small mouthfuls of air. "My hour's here, princess," the Hellgod said with a triumphant grin. "Now watch everyone you ever loved _die_."

The melee below froze, heroes and madmen alike waiting in horrified anticipation. Buffy closed her eyes against tears of despair, certain her sister must be dead or dying. Then…

…Nothing happened.

Buffy opened one eye and then the other, then blinked confusedly at the Hellgod. Glory's head jerked from side to side searching for the dimensional opening that should have appeared. Her smile faded. "Where's my portal?" she wondered in bewilderment. "Hey! You!" she shouted at Dean. "Go up there and find out why you're not dying!"

"Ask him," the hunter called, pointing behind the Hellgod.

She whipped around to find a darkly amused Crowley. "We had an _agreement!_ " she shouted angrily.

"Funny thing, that," he replied. "If I recall, you refused to _sign_ said agreement, which means anything verbally agreed upon became null and void."

"Because I wouldn't _kiss_ you?"

"I did say it was your loss." The demon snapped his fingers and Xander suddenly found himself cradling a quivering teenager in his arms.

"Hey," an unblemished Dawn softly said with a nervous smile.

Glory screamed out her fury and threw the Slayer at Crowley. He vanished, and Buffy ended up having to snatch a railing one-handed to prevent a three story drop. The Hellgod stormed towards her as Dean yelled Buffy's name and started a maniacal climb upwards. "At least I can take care of _you_ ," Glory snarled as she grabbed the Slayer's right wrist and lifted her in the air. The Hellgod's spare hand snaked out and gripped Buffy's neck.

Then she _pulled_.

Dean watched, horrified, as Glory tore off the Slayer's arm, ripping it from her shoulder. The Hellgod then threw her off the tower and stomped repeatedly on the amputated limb. The hunter immediately turned around and clambered downwards, jumping straight to the ground as soon as he was low enough, and joined Buffy's other friends in rushing to her side.

Giles got her landing spot first. She had touched down into a mound of dirt. The Slayer's eyes were glazed and she made no sound other than irregular, hoarse gasps. Her Watcher lifted her in his arms and slid down the pile. "She's in shock," he said as he shed his coated. "Quickly, I need something to stop the bleeding."

As Dawn tore off her long sleeves and Dean donated his jacket, Glory leapt down and landed with a loud _thud_ several feet away. "Move it," she demanded. "She's got a few more things I need to rip off."

Dean and Xander took defensive positions in front of the rest of them as the Hellgod advanced. She took two steps forward then abruptly stopped to clutch her chest, her face a terrible mix of agony and confusion. A screeching explosion of light erupted from her torso causing Dean, Xander, and Dawn to throw up their arms in front of their eyes, and Giles to crouch and turn away, using his body to shield Buffy.

When it faded, they found Glorificus lying on her back blown a few feet away by the mystical explosion. Ben Wilkinson was lying before her on his belly coughing from the dust cloud that had billowed up. The witches came running out of the darkness, exhausted but elated at the completion of their spell. Then they saw the Slayer's grievous injury.

"Buffy, _oh God,_ " Willow cried hoarsely as Giles stood back up. He'd managed to wrap Buffy's injury in the motley of donated clothing, but blood continued to seep through. Warily, the Watcher eyed the slowly stirring Hellgod and her male counterpart, and after exchanging a glance with Dean he hurried off with his burden. Dawn and, after a quick, reassuring kiss from Willow, Tara followed.

Ben pushed himself slowly to his feet overwhelmed with awe and joy. The young man looked from Glory back down to his own hands and felt hope for the first time in years. He was _free!_ He could do whatever he wanted, _whenever_ he wanted, without worrying if he'd find himself mysteriously somewhere either in women's clothing or with someone else's blood dripping from his fingers. Ben watched an utterly stupefied Glory clamber to her feet then turned towards the remains of Buffy's friends. Tears tracked their way down his face. "Thank y–"

There was a harsh click and catch.

Then a small, deafening boom.

Remorselessly, Dean looked down the barrel of his shotgun at the mess Ben's chest had become. The young doctor stared, his mind instinctively calculating that his heart had been mutilated beyond what any surgeon could hope to repair. He gave the hunter one last, baffled gaze before falling to his knees, and then onto his face. A few seconds later, Ben Wilkinson was dead.

But the Hellgod was not.

"Willow," Xander said, panic infusing his expression and tone, "why is she still standing there?"

"I-I dunno," the witch answered. Dean quickly pumped his shotgun and fired at the Hellgod. In a blink she was in front of the hunter, her hand on the barrel. The hunter was unnerved as he watched her gray-blue, human-like eyes turn glacial, the pupils disappearing and the iris limned by midnight.

"Idiots!" roared a dumbfounded Crowley from his sudden appearance on the first landing of the mad edifice. "Stupid, blithering _idiots!_ That boy was her _PRISON!_ "

"Which means I'm _completely_ free. And now," Glorificus announced as her new eyes were illuminated by the power she was regaining, "you all get to _die_."


	28. Part II: Chapter 28

7/6/2016 - Yay! Finally done moving! Also, we have way too much junk! Yayyyyy!

I've been toying with how to describe the New and Improved Glory's eyes. There's an addition at the end of the previous chapter that gives more. Since her eyes are sort of a gray-blue I'm trying to go for a mix between White Walker and SPN Djinn. If it doesn't sound like it, I'm open to suggestions :D

If there are any errors in the medical part of this chapter please tell me. There's only so much I can google o_o

Thanks to Fanfiction Dot Net's **xxRomanceGirlxx** and **thedarkpokemaster** for the reviews! Also, welcome back mystery guest!

* * *

Dean Winchester had confronted Death himself, spent thirty years in Hell being tortured (and ten doing the torturing), had been beaten, stabbed, shot, and pummeled he didn't know how many times; but what he saw in the Hellgod's eyes terrified him in a way he hadn't felt since Hellhounds had come to collect his soul. Crowley, Alastair, and Lucifer were demonic masters of torment, but they were limited to the depths of pain and misery that were contained within _this_ dimensional plane.

Glorificus knew _more_.

He felt it beginning as her eyes flared, the pain starting deep down inside his bones… and then suddenly he found himself bouncing off the dirt. The hunter looked up to see a pile of Glory's human victims, restored to sanity, bravely trying to take the Hellgod down by pounding on her with a variety of scrounged construction material. Sam was grasping his arm and helping him up off the ground saying, "You okay?"

Dean glanced back and forth between the former madmen and his brother. "Are _you_ okay?"

The younger Winchester ruefully massaged his chin. "I think so. Did you _kick_ me?"

"Maybe. You punched me first."

"Real mature." Sam looked about, baffled at their surroundings. "Where are we? Where's Buffy?"

His brother quickly glanced at the yelping Hellgod and her assailants. "C'mon, let's get out of here. I'll explain later."

They had begun to turn away, Willow and Xander getting ready to follow, when Glory shrieked, " _ENOUGH!_ " The men trying to subdue the Hellgod were abruptly thrown back in all directions by an unseen force. The Hellgod stood, her hair falling over her illuminated eyes. "Hey, remember all those buildings you kept dumping on me?" she growled. "How about having a taste of your own medicine."

Glorificus lifted stiffened fingers into the air and the towering edifice groaned. She made a fist and girders snapped, sending the entire thing tipping towards her and her targets. Crowley was, of course, long gone.

"Go! _Go-go-go-go-go!_ " Dean shouted, grabbing Willow's hand and sprinting for the opening in the fence. Sam and Xander both held their arms over their heads as debris began to rain down. The other men went screaming and fleeing in all directions. When Dean dared to look back, he saw that the Hellgod had disappeared.

Whatever Glory had done to collapse the tower was engineered to make its fall very, _very_ quick. They weren't going to make it to the exit, much less their safety alley. As Sam threw himself over Xander, Dean did the same for Willow, and they were swiftly and noisily entombed under a ton of metal and wood.

* * *

Giles spared no care for traffic laws or for his two other passengers as he raced demonically through the streets. He speed-drifted into the ER area, his tires squealing loud against the asphalt, unmindful of the loud, angry protests being thrown his way. The Watcher jumped out of the driver's seat, barreled over the security guard on his way to the passenger side, and lifted a now unconscious Buffy into his arms. Fortunately, the paramedics were far more forgiving once they saw her and immediately took over.

Dawn rushed out of the back of the car to her sister and found her way blocked by an army of medical personnel shouting vitals and demanding various necessities. Tara was forced to hold her back as Buffy was wheeled away. "She'll be okay," the witch reassured the now weeping young girl. "Your sister's tough. She'll be okay."

"Oh God," sobbed Dawn, "after everything, I thought I _saved_ us. I thought it was over!"

"Wh-What?" Tara stuttered. "Dawnie, what are you talking about?"

"Never mind, just forget it." Dawn flopped down into an empty chair and listened to Giles try to make up a believable excuse for the Slayer's condition.

"An accident," he was saying. "She, um, was helping me with some repairs. Th-There was a _saw_ …"

"Sir, do you still have the limb?"

Giles swallowed a rising tide of nausea as he recalled how Buffy's arm was mulched under the heel of an irate Glory. "Uh, no. I-I-I don't think it's salvageable."

The nurse nodded sympathetically. "Okay, sir. Just wait here. As soon as we know something more we'll let you know."

The Watcher was starting to take a seat when what felt like a small earthquake rumbled the hospital. Having lived in California for so long meant that these normally went by without comment; however, having just escaped the clutches of a Hellgod made him reconsider the cause. Giles cautiously wandered outside and peered in the general direction of the mad tower. It was high enough that it should have been peeking through the various trees, but he saw nothing. When Tara and Dawn emerged from the hospital and saw where he was gazing, they grew deeply worried.

"What do you think happened?" Tara asked quietly. She jumped as the ambulance next to them suddenly hit its siren and sped off. In the distance they could hear the horn of a fire truck and the wailing of what was probably a half dozen police.

"Nothing good," the Watcher replied grimly. "If anything's happened, they'll be joining us soon enough."

* * *

When the rumbling stopped and the dust began to settle, Xander said what was on everyone's mind: "Okay, why am I not dead?"

Sam and Dean hesitantly looked up and found, oddly, a dome of debris about a foot above their heads. Then the elder Winchester noticed Willow's hand flung outwards from underneath his protective crouch. "Spell?" Dean asked.

"Yes," the witch groaned, "but I can't hold it much longer."

The cry of sirens and the flashing red and blue lights that filtered in made them sigh in relief. "Can you let it down slowly?" whispered Sam. "I don't think there's enough on top to squish us, but I think the fire department's going to ask way too many questions about this." The younger Winchester pointed around.

"This is gonna suck," Dean stated as he and his brother braced themselves.

Willow's face scrunched up in concentration and the wreckage slowly lowered itself onto their bodies. She made a few adjustments to insure that none of them were impaled and, as gently as possible, let the detritus settle. Luckily, the motion caught the attention of the firemen who set to immediately clearing away their prison. The witch had never been more thankful to be blinded when their headlamps shone right in her face.

"Don't worry," the man called, "just stay still. We'll have you out in no time."

* * *

The emergency responders thought it extraordinary that they were alive and relatively unharmed. Bruises that had accumulated during the battle were easily attributed to the tower collapse and they chalked Willow's lack of harm to her "boyfriend" having shielded her from debris. This allowed an opening to explain their presence there in the middle of the night; the two pairs had been walking home when the precariously built edifice had fallen due to poor craftsmanship.

"Did you just call me and the kid a _couple?_ " a furious Sam whispered.

"He's legal," answered Dean blithely.

"Oh, _Sam!_ " exclaimed Xander as he hugged the taller man from behind. "You were _so_ brave!" He then proceeded to nuzzle Sam's back with his cheek as the younger Winchester glowered at his brother.

The paramedic who was testing Willow's vitals was making it apparent she thought their public display of affection was sweet, so Sam reluctantly let Xander be. They then stayed silent, eavesdropping on the various personnel that were moving about the area. Several of the former madmen had been trapped underneath the rubble, but a few had escaped with only minor scrapes and bruises. At least one, unfortunately, had been killed. Strangely, the alley where they had made their stand against Glory's minions was curiously empty. "That's weird," commented Sam.

"What is?" Dean asked.

"I thought I saw a pile of those ugly dudes that follow Glory in there," he answered, pointing. "Now it's empty."

"I cleaned up your little mess," said Crowley from behind the elder Winchester. "No need to thank me." He looked jealously at Xander (who hadn't given up his passionate embrace). "Why, Moose. And here I've never even gotten a peck on the cheek."

" _Thank_ you?" snarled Dean as he grabbed the demon's lapels. "I should gank you right now for helping out that Hell-bitch!"

"Helping her? I helped _you_ , you twit! If you haven't noticed, we aren't all being slaughtered by interdimensional demons. So you're welcome."

"And what about tossing me off the bloody tower?" Spike asked as he walked his way towards them. Other than a large sliver of wood that was sticking out from the right side of his chest, the vampire appeared to be relatively unharmed.

"That was just for funzies," quipped the demon as Dean, clearly disgusted, released his grip.

"Wanker," the platinum-headed creature mumbled as he drew out a cigarette and proceeded to light up.

"Love you, too, darling," Crowley told the vampire before vanishing.

"You better be getting that Hand of God, you _dick!_ " Dean shouted to the air.

"Um, Spike?" Willow said tentatively. "You've got a little…" She waggled her finger at his impalement.

"Oh, right. Huh." He yanked out the wood with a grunt and examined it thoughtfully. "Couple'a inches to the left and I would've been buggered, eh?" After taking a deep drag he queried, "Where's the Slayer?"

"Hopefully at the hospital," Dean said with a sigh. "I'll explain on the way."

* * *

They joined Giles, Tara, and Dawn after a half hour's walk to hugs and relief all around. Spike eyed the encroaching daylight warily but was determined to stay until Buffy's diagnosis was revealed. Shortly afterwards, the teams that had been working at the collapse site began to arrive with the other victims and the group was forced to congregate away from the surgery room doors.

Fortunately they didn't have to wait long. Dr. Sakamoto emerged within the hour with relatively good news. "We've managed to stop the bleeding completely and clean out the area. There was enough skin left to cover the opening so she won't need any grafts. Frankly, it looked like the arm had been ripped off, like a doll's arm or something." When no further explanation was forthcoming he sighed and continued. "The biggest concern right now is replenishing blood and fluids. She'll be in the recovery room shortly, then depending on what happens in the next few hours you should prepare yourselves for a lengthy stay."

"Thank you, doctor," Giles answered. The physician laid a comforting hand on the Watcher's shoulder before heading back to his patients.

"I'm gonna head to Anya," said Xander, "get her up to date on what's going on."

Willow, who had been ascertaining whether or not Tara was _completely_ cured, stood up holding her girlfriend's hand. "We'll come too," she added. At Giles' nod the three friends headed to the ex-demon's hospital room.

As Sam sat by Dawn and tried to give her some comfort, Dean grabbed Spike and Giles' arms and moved to an adjoining corridor. "What are we gonna do now?"

"About _what_ exactly?" Giles responded.

"Glory, yeah?" asked Spike as he reached in his jacket for a cigarette. He tried to light it up and Dean smacked it onto the floor. "Hey!"

"Yes, the Hell-bitch! The one we accidentally made _even more powerful_ than she was before!"

"I honestly have no idea," said Giles despondently. "If there were a way to contain her again, perhaps…"

The hunter sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "Maybe if we look through more stuff back at the Bunker, might find something."

"I suppose."

"You guys should come with. Plenty of room. Plus, going through all that crap would go a lot faster with help."

The Watcher adjusted his glasses to cover his apprehension. "I'm not sure–"

"Are you _barking mad?_ " Spike interrupted the Watcher incredulously. "Word's going to get out right quick that you lot are hangin' here with a one-armed Buffy. Might as well paint a big target on her back."

A confused Dean inquired, "What're you talking about?"

"The _Slayer_ , mate! Why do you think most of us came here in the first place? So we can take in the sights? Vamps and demons come here to shake our willies at each other, take on the bloody Slayer and see who's got the bigger goolies. Right now first one that shows is going to win that trophy by walking in here and puttin' a pillow over her head."

"All the more reason to get gone," the hunter told Giles.

The Watcher sighed and acquiesced. "Very well. Soon as Buffy wakes up we'll start moving."

* * *

When she first tried to open her eyes, it was like lifting elephants with her fingers. Buffy finally managed and became irritated that her hand wasn't answering her request to wipe the hair out of her face. Then it came rushing back: the battle against Glory, the failed ritual, and…

She was propped up at a forty-five degree angle, just enough to be able to move her head slightly to her right and see that she no longer had an arm.

Her mouth opened and closed but the words couldn't come. "Oh God," Buffy managed to choke out.

Someone was calling her name and had gotten close enough to grasp her remaining hand. "Can you hear me?" Dawn said quietly but urgently. "Buffy, we're all safe. It's okay."

"Dawn? You're _alive_. The ritual…?"

"Didn't happen. Are you…?" Her little sister swallowed. "Do you…?"

"Where is everyone?"

"Giles is outside. Everyone else went to go rest. I think we're leaving town when… whenever we can. Sam and Dean invited us to go live with them. Dean's making it sound like the Avengers headquarters or something." Dawn tried her best to force a laugh.

Buffy had no room for levity. There were thoughts, horrible, _desolate_ thoughts, that were creeping in and she was in no shape to face them. "Can you get the doctor?" she croaked. "Ask him for more yummy morphine?"

"Sure, Buffy. Anything." She heard cloth rustling, then Dawn opening and closing the door as softly as possible. Her sister must have told Giles not to come in; she was left alone until her doctor returned to give her smiling platitudes. The nurse checked on her bandages and vitals, then pumped a shot into the IV that had been set up on her hand.

Buffy let unconsciousness take her and, with tears in her eyes, tried not to let reality consume her. She _couldn't_ be broken. She _couldn't_ be crippled. There was no way she could possibly now be a _useless_ , one-armed Slayer.

No, she would wake up later and find this had all been a dream.


	29. Part II: Chapter 29

7/8/2016 - I couldn't figure out why, but this chapter was _hard_. Will probably be going back and doing some editing before having fun with the next one so if anyone has spotted any more plot holes or other things that need to be fixed please please please let me know!

There are some hospital procedures that I'm not _quite_ certain if I got them right. If anyone knows better, drop me a line.

Thanks again, **xxRomanceGirlxx** , **thedarkpokemaster** and Mystery Guest for the reviews! I now violently poke others out there and hope for some peeps!

* * *

Even though her broken bones were close to completely knitted the following morning (thanks to being the Slayer), Dr. Sakamoto refused to let Buffy be discharged. Astonished, he declared her vitals close to normal and her amputation locale clean and free of infection, but he rejected the idea that she was in any way physically or mentally prepared for what lay ahead as an amputee. The fact that Buffy met her physiotherapist, her social worker, and her psychologist with tight-lipped silence didn't help her case.

Anya was feeling well enough to complain about boredom, but both she and Buffy were in a great deal of pain. Whenever they went it would be necessary to stock a good amount of opioids. Willow and Tara also made preparations for magical means of healing and pain control while the Winchesters made plans to raid the local pharmacy on their way out of town. Giles appeared properly disapproving of the theft, then slipped Sam a diagram of the surrounding streets which pinpointed the locations of security cameras.

They were thankfully spared any _immediate_ retaliation from Glorificus, but the delay made everyone nervous. While she'd been trapped in Ben, the Hellgod had shown numerous times that her mental stability was questionable. Whether the state persisted was unknown but it was certain that the longer they stayed the greater the danger to the Slayer.

More reasons to flee cropped up when Ben's body was discovered. The debris had mangled him a good amount, but not enough to disguise the gaping wound on his chest. Luckily there was enough detritus that the authorities hadn't located any of their firearms, but that reprieve wouldn't last forever. Dean mumbled something about the FBI and his fingerprints but was elbowed hard by Sam before he could clarify.

It would take nearly two days to get to Lebanon, Kansas, and there were a number of logistics to figure out. The first was transportation. There were ten of them in total and would need significantly more room than was available in the Impala or Giles' BMW to insure the comfort of the two wounded women. Xander grumbled about his slashed tires until late in the evening when he found Dean in the hospital parking lot replacing them. The hunter gave some scathing remarks regarding the young man's choice in vehicles, then proceeded to tune the beat-up Plymouth so that it ran like new. With three cars they were set. Now they just had to figure out Spike.

The vampire flat out refused to ride the entire way in someone's trunk and all the car owners denied him the option of blocking the windows as he did to the camper. They ended up holding their argument under the open window of Buffy's room during Willow's shift keeping watch. The annoyed witch then severed the Gordian Knot by marching outside and transforming the vampire into a rat. She then threw him into a handy shoebox and then into Giles' back seat. The rest of them got a murderous glare for interrupting the Slayer's rest.

The next issue was supplies. The Winchesters forwent explaining the source of their funds, but they assured the others that basic necessities would be furnished without a problem. Dawn, Xander, and Giles hurried to their respective residences early the next morning to pack clothing and irreplaceable memorabilia. Dawn made sure to get as many photos of the family as she could find as well as Buffy's few treasured pieces of jewelry; Xander found Anya's beloved stash of money along with their own photos; and Giles raided his own store for books and spell ingredients. The Watcher also secured those items that he was unable to take, but that were undoubtedly dangerous, in the basement.

His final act was to sorrowfully place a sign on the door of the Magic Box that read simply: " **Closed Indefinitely** ".

* * *

"I want to go."

It was the second night after the battle. Other than the requisite monosyllabic responses that she needed to give to her friends and family ("Buffy, should I pack your pink skirt?" "No.") and the ones required by medical personnel ("Can you rate your pain from one to ten?" "Eight.") the Slayer had been mute. After Giles had made another attempt to get Dr. Sakamoto to release her, both men had entered the room. The physician had then asked her simply what she wanted.

"Ms. Summers," the doctor said gently, "you've just experienced a great deal of trauma. I strongly suggest you stay and let us help you through your recovery."

"You can't keep me here."

Dr. Sakamoto sighed. "No, not _legally_. But I'm sorely tempted to strap you down instead."

"I highly suggest you _don't_ ," Giles threatened quietly.

Buffy stared impassively at both men. "I'm going."

The physician clutched the back of his head with one hand, exasperated. "This is ridiculous. I've never… well, if you're going to do this at _least_ wait until we've had a nurse change your dressings. I'm also going to give you a prescription for hydrocodone that I know you're going to need."

"Fine."

He looked from Giles to Buffy. "If she changes her mind, or… well I'll give you a whole list of things to look out for. Any of them crop up come back here _right away_."

"Thank you," replied the Watcher. The disgruntled doctor then left the room muttering about recalcitrant patients.

Giles cleaned his spectacles then sat on the foot of Buffy's bed. "Will you be all right?"

"Everyone needs to stop asking me that."

"You haven't given anyone a good answer."

"I don't have one."

"Buffy, you know we're all here for you."

"Yes."

When she made no further attempt at conversation, her Watcher sighed, adjusted his glasses, and stood. "I'll go check on Anya and be back. Take heart, Buffy. Everything will turn out all right, you'll see."

Yes, so they all kept saying. The doctor, the nurses, even her friends kept repeating similar phrases. It was like they were chanting a mantra meant to magically make her feel better. It was going to be okay; things were going to get better; this wasn't the end of the world.

But it _wasn't_. It _wouldn't_ . And it _was_ the end of her world.

No one seemed to understand.

* * *

The cars were split fairly evenly. Giles took Tara and Willow (and a sullen rat-Spike), Xander had Anya and Dawn, and Buffy sequestered herself in the back of the Impala. Sam and Dean were the only ones who weren't being over-solicitous and let the Slayer have her privacy. Her sister, by contrast, was almost stifling.

Their first rest stop occurred outside of Las Vegas, about eight hours into their drive. It was mid-morning and everyone was ready for the bathroom and a bite to eat. Buffy let Dawn help her with the former and didn't bother with the latter; the mechanics of it were too daunting and the stares were uncomfortable. She retreated to the car saying she wanted to nap. Several minutes later, without asking, Dean brought her a milkshake, put it in a cup holder, and left her to her own devices.

 _That_ nearly brought her to tears.

Their second pause was about ten hours later at a rest stop in the middle of the Arapaho National Forest. Since they'd make it to the Bunker sometime in the small hours of the morning, Willow reluctantly de-ratted Spike. He was tempted to unleash nearly two days worth of pent-up rage, but when he remembered that the witch could _re_ -rat him pretty quickly he took it out on a raccoon instead.

When he returned from the woods, Dean asked if Spike was feeding on animals because he sparkled. A puzzled Dawn asked how the hunter even knew how wildlife blood and sparkly vampires were related. Sam promptly made the connection between a young girl and a notorious series of tween vampire novels and couldn't stop laughing and mocking his brother. Dean promptly told him to shut up.

The corners of Buffy's lips twitched a little.

Several hours later they pulled down an isolated road to a dead-end cement wall. The surrounding area was sparsely dotted with shrubbery and trees. As Dean pulled out a small wooden box inscribed with two overlapping arrow heads, the rest of them gazed at the concrete edifice that loomed above a sunken door.

"Are we about to meet Willy Wonka?" Xander quipped.

As Dean unlocked the thick metal door, Sam said, "If he's in there, he certainly isn't making any candy."

"Or if he is," added Dean, "then he's being a douche and not sharing."

They all followed the brothers inside and stopped, awestruck, on the balcony overlooking the sprawling, beautifully maintained interior of the Men of Letters Bunker. As he stood next to an ancient, backlit table depicting a flat map of the world, Sam spread his arms and gave the Sunnydale expats a warm smile.

"Welcome home!"

* * *

 ** _END PART II_**

* * *

And that's the end of the Buffy arc folks! For those who haven't seen the last five episodes of SPN 11, Part III will be dealing with the story arc surrounding the Darkness and so **spoiler alerts** are being handed out now.

Glory isn't gone (like Buffy's arm… too soon?) and her story isn't finished, so don't worry! I didn't forget Miss Cranky-Pants.

Thanks to the people who are constantly reviewing! If anyone would like to chime in, anything is welcome!


	30. Part III: Chapter 30

7/12/2016 - Soooooo… I did it! Managed to start the next section regardless of being gobsmacked by a really bad review. Part of the problem really was just mounting life stress and the vitriolic words of an Internet stranger sort of put the cherry on the icky cake.

I am _so_ grateful for those who sent kind words and encouragements. Not enough people recognize, I think, how much getting just a _little_ support can mean to a person. Just helping me think positive helped me bludgeon through the writer's block. I'll admit to having a little _fear_ now about how I'll be received, but just need to keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming swimming swimming…

TLDR: Got bad words tossed at me. Writer's block built. Awesome people helped break it down ^_^

* * *

 **SPOILER ALERT** : Part III will involve events during Supernatural episode 11.18 through the finale.

* * *

The Sunnydale crew spent the first few days at the Bunker just getting acclimated. As the Winchesters had only cleaned those areas that they used on a regular basis, the spare bedrooms that were finally opened were layered in a thick coat of dust. Except for the two invalids, the whole group spent their first day making these places inhabitable. Once the linens had been washed and the furniture clear they separated themselves appropriately: Tara and Willow, Xander and Anya, and Dawn and Buffy. Giles and Spike had rooms to themselves.

There were a few snafus in the very beginning. For one, the Men of Letters had been _men_ , which meant there were no separate showering facilities for the women. After an incredibly embarrassing (and painful) encounter involving Sam, Willow, and a well-thrown bottle of shampoo, a schedule was established. Luckily there were two sets of toilets, each adjacent to opposite ends of the shower. The women got the right, the men the left.

Spike then inadvertently stumbled upon the hidden demon cell and discovered that there was enough biblical unholiness in him that he became trapped. Dean threatened to leave him in there, handcuffed and everything, if he caught the vampire smoking inside again. Sullenly, Spike prowled about aimlessly until he discovered the garage. As soon as the moon was out he started joyriding all the classic cars. He valued his head too much, however, to even _look_ at the Impala.

Giles was absolutely thrilled with the library and kept expounding to everyone or no one on the new information he found. Willow was politely intrigued until she discovered the Men of Letters' collection of spells. From that point on Willow and Giles spent their time with the books, enthusiastically calling out to one another about their revelations.

Anya's wound was healing nicely, but she was in too much pain to really do anything and was infinitely _bored_ with looking at moldy old tomes. She discovered Sam and Dean in a storage room pulling out various artifacts and started peeping in the boxes. Once she had loudly identified, without looking at the labels, an Orb of Thesulah, a pagan sacrificial blade, and a lock of Rasputin's hair, Dean gave her his laptop and told her to have at it. The ex-demon asked Sam to set up a chair and a desk and then cheerfully began cataloging the room.

As she was still hampered by her spear wound, Anya roped Xander into opening the boxes and bringing objects to her for closer inspection. Once in a while they closed the door and indulged in some _careful_ bouts of passion.

Dawn approached Sam the second day with an expression of such stubborn determination that he became terrified. He was certain she was going to act upon the minor infatuation he'd seen while they were in Sunnydale. Instead, the teenager asked him to teach her to handle a gun. The younger Winchester happily introduced her to the shooting range and began giving her lessons. They also utilized the conference area so that both Winchesters (and occasionally Giles) could show her how to care for the various firearms.

Dean set out to repair his Baby. He needed to get a new windshield, buff out the scratches made by horses and armor, and fix the bullet holes he himself put into the roof. Beyond that the hunter wanted to give the Impala a general tuneup; his normal routine following a long trip. He set the car up in the garage and gave tacit permission for Spike to fiddle with the other cars. Dean's only instructions were to make sure the tools got put back where they had been found and to _never_ to touch the music. Fortunately their tastes ran fairly similar; several times the two unknowingly bobbed heads and murmured lyrics together.

Sam and Tara fell into the roles of mother hens. They drove Giles' BMW into Lebanon and hoarded up on cheese, peanut butter, jelly, bread, condiments, salads, burger supplies, and salami. The pair also put themselves in charge of the frequent takeout meals that were normally the staple of the Winchesters' meals. Due to their digestive responsibilities, Tara was actually the first to realize that someone was missing out on all the activity.

Buffy was doing nothing at all.

* * *

By the fifth day everyone had settled into a routine and the Slayer's absence became glaring. Dawn said her sister slept and allowed her bandages to be changed then did nothing but watch streaming television on Sam's laptop. Giles risked poking his head in the Summers' door and saw a limp, haggard Buffy sitting cross legged on her bed, still in the tank top and sweat pants she'd worn on the trip over. Her hair was lank and greasy and her well-bagged eyes were glued to the screen. He cleared his throat.

"Buffy," he said gently while staying in the doorway, "I know this has been difficult, but perhaps you would be better off out here with the rest of us."

"No."

"Would you like something to eat?"

"No."

He removed his glasses and gave them a cleaning. As he was replacing them he changed tactics. "Really, Buffy, you've been moping around for far too long. I am still your Watcher and this is unbecoming for a Slayer."

"Okay."

Giles resisted the urge to walk over and smack her. Spike had no such compunctions. After the Watcher left, the vampire checked to see no one else was coming and waltzed on in. "You know, your stench is starting to float down the hall."

"Okay."

He walked closer and poked her in the forehead. "I think the Slayer's got pimples."

"Okay."

"You know, I never found you really attractive. It was all a ploy to get into your sister's pants. Really, the nibblet and I have been shagging like rabbits since we got here."

"Okay."

Spike ran his fingers through his hair. "Buffy, love," he pleaded, "you've got to get up, do _something_."

"No."

Frustrated, Spike slapped her across the face and the Initiative's chip kicked in. Needles stabbed into his brain. He gritted his teeth against a howl and huddled down until the agony had passed. When the vampire finally regained his feet he was chagrined to see Buffy still in the same position, only now she had a reddened cheek.

"Bloody hell. _Sit_ here then and rot," he snarled. Down the hallway, Spike punched a hole into the brick wall and shouted an obscenity, much to Sam's annoyance. The area the vampire marred was already home to a dent, courtesy of a hammer that had nearly caved the hunter's head in.

The next day, Willow and Tara came in together bearing a cylindrical wrapped object. "Tah- _daaaaah!_ " the red-haired witch cried as she whipped the cloth away to reveal a beautifully crafted prosthetic arm. It was made of intricately woven metals and had been enhanced with a number of mystical runes. "We made you a Slayer-arm!"

"Okay."

The two witches glanced at each other and then back at their friend. "Look!" Tara said cheerfully. "You don't even need surgery. Anya found it in storage and we put all these protection spells on it…"

"Yeah!" her girlfriend added. "So, wanna try it on?"

"No."

Willow whispered something into Tara's ear. The blonde nodded, gave her lover a peck on the cheek, and left the room with the prosthetic. After she was gone, the witch sat next to her (somewhat pungent) friend and begged her talk. "Please, Buffy. We're all here for you. Just say something. Anything."

"No."

"Just tell me what you want. Tell any of us what you need. What do you want me to do right now?"

Buffy lifted her head slightly and gazed at her friend through a curtain of dirty hair. What was in those green eyes struck Willow terribly. Sitting here was not the fierce, vibrant Slayer that had faced innumerable vampires and demons. It wasn't the brave girl that had defeated The Master, Angelus, the Mayor, Adam. This was just a shell filled to the brim with misery and hopelessness, unable to convey anything other than apathy.

"Leave," Buffy uttered and sent the witch hurrying from the room in tears.

* * *

They wouldn't leave her alone.

All she wanted was to sit on this bed and wither away. Why couldn't they understand that?

Giles had said something about how her actions were _unbecoming_ of the Slayer. That was all well and good. Obviously the universe was balancing itself after accidentally spitting out two Slayers. Faith might be incarcerated, but she was still whole, still able to _fight_. Buffy was nothing but a _burden_.

There were plenty of others here to defeat Glory. Spike, the hundred and fifty year old vampire. Willow and Tara, the powerful witches. Giles, trained in the ways of the Watchers. Anya, with the knowledge of a thousand years of existence. Even Dawn was useful, if her sister really was learning to shoot. Then Sam and Dean, the lifelong hunters.

 _Dean_ …

Something _almost_ stirred within her. She remembered the feel of his lips, of his body, of his breath on her neck. Of her arms wrapped around him…

Arms…

Buffy looked to her right at the bandages and empty space where once there had been a human appendage. No, wrapping her _arms_ around the hunter, around _anyone_ would never happen again.

Never.

Now if they would just leave her alone.

* * *

Willow sat in the library weeping, Tara's arm swung over her shoulders murmuring comforts. Giles was leaning against a bookcase, disconsolate at the failure of their latest endeavor, and the other Sunnydale natives were arranged in various spots around the table. "Is it my turn?" asked Xander.

"Is there something that you will do differently?" retorted the Watcher.

"I could tell her how ugly she looks," Anya offered.

"Thank you, I don't think that will be necessary."

"She's not eating," Dawn said. "I mean, she's drinking water, and I think she ate a grape, but that's it. Is she dying?" she asked piteously while looking up at Giles.

"If she is, it's by her choice. We can't very well force her to eat."

Dean bounded up from the conference room wiping oil from his fingers. He glanced around at the miserable group and surmised, "Didn't work?"

"No," wailed Willow.

"Fine." The hunter slapped the dirty rag onto the table. Before anyone could object to his ruining the veneer he was stomping towards the living quarters. "My turn."

* * *

Buffy didn't react to the door banging open, but when Dean picked up the laptop and tossed it carelessly on the floor she nearly objected. Fury raged for a moment before being buried again by despair. Rather than react, she stared dispassionately at the lopsided screen.

However, there was no ignoring what he did next. The hunter grabbed her remaining arm, slung her over his shoulder like a sack, and tromped out of the room. "What are you _doing_?" she shrieked, weakly pounding on his back. "Put me down! Let me go! _Let me go!_ "

Upon hearing Buffy's shrieks her friends came running from the library to gape at the Slayer's undignified position. Dean ignored them and continued on down the hall until he reached the showers. He then dragged Buffy off his back, dumped her on the tile, and turned the water on to _cold_.

The only noises she could make were gasps and wordless yelps. When she could finally breathe again, she saw Dean and his infuriating smirk crouched in front of her. "Morning, sunshine!" the hunter declared. "Time to get up off that ass!"

Buffy looked desperately at the doorway where her old friends were gathered. She saw a mix of bemusement and satisfaction in their faces. "I can't… I can't…"

" _Bull_. You got one _arm_ now, but far as I can see you still got two _legs_. Now cut feeling sorry for yourself and start living again, princess."

For the first time in a over a week passion blazed behind her eyes. The Slayer drew herself up, incensed. " _Princess?_ "

"Actually, I've been meaning to call you Stumpy. Maybe I could call you Princess Stumpy."

" _Stumpy?_ "

"Dean," warned Giles.

"Yeah, okay," said the hunter. He pushed himself to his feet. "You gonna get that smell off of her?" he inquired at Dawn.

"Oh-Oh yeah," the younger Summers stuttered. Then she beamed. "Yeah, of course!"

"Alrighty then," Dean said. As Dawn knelt down to help remove soaked bandages and clothing off of Buffy, he shoved his way through the astonished Sunnydale expats and shouted, "See ya later, Princess Stumpy!"

" _STUMPY?_ "

* * *

Buffy hated to admit it, but being clean and wearing fresh clothes was doing remarkably wonderful things for her mood. She felt more human, more _alive_. And definitely less sticky.

Dawn picked out a simple jeans and shirt outfit and very carefully folded and pinned the right sleeve once it was on. "There!" she proclaimed with a grin. "Now you're, whatsisname… Lieutenant Dan!"

"Lieutenant Dan lost his _legs_ , dummy."

" _You're_ the dummy," came her sister's well thought out retort. Then, astonishingly, after a few moments of silence, the teenager's lips quivered and she burst into tears.

Taken aback, Buffy queried, "What the heck is wrong with you?"

"I'm happy! I'm happy!" Dawn choked out between sobs. "I missed you so much!"

The Slayer reached out hesitantly with her left arm, balking at the odd feeling of her nonexistent _right_ arm doing the same thing, and hugged her sister close. "I'm sorry."

Her sister sniffle-snorted indelicately and hugged Buffy back. "It's okay. Just, you know, don't do it again. Twice is enough."

"I promise."

"Hey, wanna go try out that arm? It's _so_ cool. Anya said it has, like, mystical powers or something."

"Yeah, sure. Hey, where's Dean?"

"Probably back to fixing his car. Why?"

"' _Stumpy_ ' needs to give him a good kick in the ass."

* * *

Glorificus was annoyed. Not angry, not miserable, _annoyed_.

A good number of her god powers had returned. She could crush, explode, eviscerate, and maim all without lifting a finger. Objects flew to her at a tiny extension of her will. She was invulnerable, immortal, and her strength was unparalleled. Plus, her beautiful eyes were back to their original luminescence.

But she couldn't see into others' minds; dredging up their deepest fears had once been her favorite pastime. She couldn't call fire or lightning or any other destructive energies from the air. Most vexing of all, she was stuck in this puny human form instead of looming over them all as a pure, magnificent Hellgod because her full well of power was trapped in her home dimension.

Thus, Glory was annoyed. After all, she was stuck in this absolutely _dreary_ place until the next alignment happened, which was sometime in the next five thousand years (give or take a century).

It wouldn't do to just sit around and mope. So when that pretty angel showed up again, this time in her bedroom, it was like Christmas. The tortures she could use on such a hardy victim!

Except… something was off.

Glory peered at Castiel from where she lounged on her bed. "Hey, _stupid_. What the hell are you doing back here?"

The seraph glanced around. " _Love_ what you've done to the place!" he quipped. "Really reminds me of home." Glory blinked. Her lackeys had cleaned up the debris left by her battle with the witch. Afterwards, she had tested her regained powers on them. The gore still dripped from the ceiling.

Glorificus stood up from the love seat where she'd been lounging. She walked over to the angel and grabbed his jaw. When she peered deep into the seraph's eyes, there was an anomaly. "Last time I saw your pretty blues there was only one thing in there. Now there's two. So, before I take this head off and decorate my mantle, mind telling me who you are?"

Ignoring the bone-cracking grip on his jaw, Castiel shrugged and looked rather comically thoughtful. "Oh, I've got _so_ many names," he said cheerfully. "Morning Star, Light Bringer, Your Highness. I really do prefer Lucifer. It's the name my daddy gave me after all."

Glory lifted the possessed angel into the air. "Should I be impressed?"

Lucifer grabbed her wrist and wrenched it away as easily as the Hellgod had done to Castiel. While she suffered no broken bones, she still stumbled and nearly fell into the black and red stain that had once been Blork the Minion. The archangel landed heavily on his heels and started chortling at her clumsiness. Glory then whipped around and punched him in the face. He went flying into the wall and created a substantial impact crater before, astonishingly, leaning over and continuing to indulge his mirth.

"Oh, you should see your face!" he laughed. "It's _priceless!_ "

"Ugh!" Glory uttered as she threw up her hands. She stretched out on her couch again and prepared to resume her brooding. "That Crowley bastard didn't hold up his end of the bargain, so you're no use to me. _Go away_."

"Yeah, no. See the thing is, I'm actually trying to find that lost little lost doggy of mine. Last I heard he was here on the Hellmouth. I really, really want him back in his kennel where he belongs."

The Hellgod lifted an eyebrow and sat up. "Really now?" she asked eagerly.

Lucifer affected a mournful sigh. "I'm so worried about my doggy. He really needs to put his collar back on and receive some discipline."

Glorificus grinned maliciously. A purpose! A marvelous, self-serving purpose! "Oh, Luci baby. Let's go find your little lost puppy."

* * *

Chapter made possible by: **xxRomanceGirlxx** , **Jennee77** , **ggf1** , **IoSolUno** , **deadly embrace** , and **Lynn72261**. As the drunk Dean meme says: You're awesome.


	31. Part III: Chapter 31

7/15/2016 - These chapters are actually giving me some difficulty. I have to go rewatch portions and read transcripts in order to remember what's going on. I maybe sort of probably have watched the Buffy episodes a bunch of times so really didn't need more than a refresher.

Thanks everyone that suggested some video sites, but my wifi sort of imploded whenever I tried to use most of them. Luckily there's a YouTuber who has the episodes cut up into pieces. Just gotta find the playlist to watch the show in its entirety.

 **Note** : A few lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, Hell's Angel (SPN 11x18).

Thanks you guys for the reviews! **Jennee77** , **deadly embrace** , **IoSolUno** , **xxRomanceGirlxx** , and **ggf1**. Also not one, but _two_ mystery guests. Or they could be the same person, never know.

* * *

"Wow."

"You know, there are other words you could be using," Giles admonished.

"Wow."

Buffy was absolutely enthralled with the prosthetic Anya had dug up out of the Bunker's storage. It was forged of a metal infused (not painted) with a blood-red color and attached easily to her shoulder with a series of padded leather straps. There were no signs of rust or weathering despite having been locked away without preservative precautions for nearly fifty years. Gears and springs and rods were skillfully interlocked so that they mimicked perfectly the movement of muscles, bones, and ligaments. Tiny pieces were used for each finger.

Sam discovered a journal in the same box as the prosthetic which told the tale of its creation. It had apparently been made after the Civil War for a Man of Letters named Percival Johnson. He had answered the call of the North to fight for his country and had lost his limb in the Battle of Blue Springs. As Johnson had been one of the order's most prestigious scribes, the loss of his writing hand was devastating. However, in recognition of his heroism and his years of dedication to the Men of Letters, a group of scholars and spell-workers worked to develop a fully functional prosthetic years before technology was able to do the same. Thus, the astonishing creation that Buffy had strapped to her shoulder.

When they had initially put it on, the runes glowed white. A pleasant, tingling sensation had begun at the Slayer's deltoid and trapezius, then moved swiftly upwards and tickled her brain. The light then faded and Buffy discovered that the prosthetic had shrunken to her fit her smaller size. Her new metal arm answered to her wants as easily as her flesh-and-blood arm, and the only complaint she made was how strange it was that the fingers had no sensation.

Amused, Sam, Giles, and Willow had then watched as the Slayer did anything and everything she could think of with her new limb. So far Buffy had open and closed doors, flipped through several books, used the Bunker key three times, used Sam's laptop to google herself, did a handstand then a cartwheel, and whacked Dean upside the head. Apparently one of the runes that Willow and Tara had added was to ensure the arm had her Slayer strength, which made her last idea a bit of a mistake; Buffy miscalculated how much worse metal rather than flesh would strike. The elder Winchester was now lying in bed muttering invectives and pressing an ice pack on the side of his head.

That actually gave her a few new ideas. For the past several minutes the others had watched Buffy use her prosthetic to mulch an orange, smash a beer bottle, and crush a rock.

"Wow."

"That is… _awesome_ ," Sam remarked.

"Right?"

"'Thank you, Willow,'" reminded the witch.

Buffy beamed at her best friend, then gave her an enormous hug. "Thank you _so_ much!"

"Ow, ow, pokey in the back!"

"Oops, sorry."

Giles adjusted his glasses and peered closely at the arm. "Well, thank goodness none of the runes you two added conflicted with the ones that were already on there. Really, Willow, that was very dangerous."

"Hey! We knew what we were doing. Mostly."

"Yes, but had you added _this_ letter," the Watcher pointed to a spot on Buffy's elbow, " _here_ ," now he pointed to a spot three inches higher, "you would have drastically altered this thing's functionality."

"How?" Willow asked petulantly.

"When Buffy put it on, I'm fairly certain she would have become the equivalent of a walking atomic bomb."

"Oh," the witch responded contritely. "Uh, next time we'll make sure to double check."

"Thank you."

As Sam eyed the limb warily, his phone rang. He looked at the number and rolled his eyes. "Crowley," he announced, then put the demon on speakerphone. "What do you want?" the hunter demanded.

" _Really_ , Samantha," Crowley chided. "That how you greet everyone on the phone?"

The sound of a siren whined through the speaker. Following that came the taps of feet on concrete and Crowley huffing for breath. "Aw," crooned Willow, "the pudgy demon is getting his exercise."

In a harsh whisper, Crowley queried, "Why the _bloody_ hell is that witch with you?"

"None of your business," Sam snapped. "Why did you call?"

A truck rumbled by. The ambience suddenly changed as the street noises became fainter. "I've got it."

"Got what?"

"A Hand of God, you bleeding idiot! St. Louis. The old post office on Beekman." The call then abruptly cut.

The quartet around the conference table looked apprehensively at one another. "Could he be setting a trap?" asked Giles.

"Doubt it," answered Sam. "This would be way too simple for his kind of trap. But Crowley doesn't do _anything_ for free. He's got to have an angle."

"So!" exclaimed Buffy. "When are we leaving?"

"Uh, 'we'?"

"Duh, I'm coming with. Demons, Slayer, my kinda thing."

The hunter looked at Giles. "Buffy, I don't think that would be such a good idea," said the Watcher.

"Why?"

"Well, for one: it would be more beneficial if you were a little more familiar with that prosthetic. You'll need to get used to how it will handle in battle."

"But–"

"You also haven't really been eating for little over a week."

Buffy squirmed a little at the reminder of her second bout of psychological convalescence. She looked at her thin wrist and patted the cheek bones that were now abnormally prominent. "Fine," she agreed sullenly, "but if they come back to a roly-poly Slayer I'm blaming it on you."

* * *

Jofiel's duty for untold eons was to monitor those souls whose heavens were located along the eastern corridor. It was vitally important to insure that these good people were happy and that they hadn't become aware of their situation. Goodness knows how much trouble that Robert Singer had wrought, stirring up the western corridor.

He looked through his monitoring device. Yes, there was lovely Xie Nuo, forever watching the New Year's celebrations and eating bean cakes on her family's boat. Jofiel nodded in satisfaction and began to move on.

Only… _Lucifer_ was in his way. "Jofiel! How's it hangin'?"

The angel tried to control his panic. No one else around, no one to save him. He decided to try contempt. "So perfect. Castiel, one of heaven's most wanted, possessed by heaven's most hated." There. Now he felt better.

Lucifer looked hurt. "I come in peace. I just want to be a part of the action again. I want to lend a _hand_."

Jofiel didn't have a chance to respond before a woman's fingers gripped his head and wrenched his neck into an unnatural angle. Before he fell, he could hear an annoyed, female voice say, "What? You were taking too long."

* * *

Lucifer sighed. Aligning with this Glorificus had seemed like _such_ a good idea at the time. "You know, he's not really dead," he admonished.

The Hellgod reached down and tore off Jofiel's head. She bounced it down the hallway and proclaimed, "There. It'll take him a while to go get that."

The archangel repressed the spark of anger at her impertinence. Jofiel might have been a sorry excuse for an angel, but he was still a little brother. He sighed as a horde of his family rounded the corner and collectively cried out in horror. None of them knew where to focus; at the abomination, at the headless body of their brother, or at the interdimensional god who was poking curiously at Xie Nuo's door.

A female angel finally managed to stutter, "You… You…"

"Oh, Helena," Lucifer sighed. "Always so good with words."

"Why have you and this… _obscenity_ dared to come to Heaven?"

"Hey!" Glory objected. Her eyes flared blue.

"She's just a pal, here for the ride." He walked up to them, chuckling inwardly at how they all drew back and flinched, and put his arms around Helena and Sammael's shoulders. "I just wanna talk. You guys are okay with that, right? Talk?"

With the Hellgod beside him and his brothers and sisters following close, Lucifer headed down the hall towards one of their conference rooms. He could feel some of them itching to draw their blades, even though none of them had an _archangel_ blade and knew quite well all they could do was damage poor Castiel's vessel.

Really, if they were going to be so rude he might just have to preemptively smite them all.

* * *

Glory watched, entertained, as Lucifer intimidated his brethren. The archangel had suggested they consolidate a power base and, seeing as how her minions were now all dead, she agreed that it would be good to have some new lackeys. These guys would be perfect; powerful yet submissive, easily pulled apart, and just absolutely terrified of her new partner.

But she was getting impatient. Lucifer had _insisted_ they make this detour and she'd agreed to the reasons, but really what the Hellgod wanted to do was find Crowley and spend the next thousand years carving his flesh into strips and plaiting them. Maybe she could make a hat.

The last archangel. Huh. She hadn't realized the spread of power between archangels and angels until they were all in the same room. Castiel had been, by himself, a significant step up from most of these morons, but Lucifer outshone _him_ as the sun does a candle. More importantly, the archangel's power rivaled her own. Glory still wasn't sure which of them trumped the other.

The peons were drawing close to agreeing to let Lucifer become their new God. Ugh, _finally_. The angels were trying to ignore that she was standing at the doorway but it was a bit too noticeable how much they _weren't_ looking at her. It wasn't as if _they_ were very interesting to look at either. Would it hurt them to wear something other than gray or white? By contrast, the Hellgod's splendid Joie blue and pink short peasant dress was just absolutely _divine_.

Glory nearly snorted aloud. Divine. In Heaven.

The Hellgod's fingers twitched as the angels filed by her. Lucifer gave her a barely perceptible headshake. She sighed. _Boardroom_ negotiations, so droll. Her sort of deliberations usually involved a lot of blood and begging.

Then the floor rumbled, and someone down an adjoining hallway shouted in alarm. A moment later, all the angels were rushing back into the conference room as an enormous cloud of blackness filled the corridor and cascaded towards them. Only Lucifer did not deign to flee.

The thick vapor swept into them and threw them all about including Glory and Lucifer. While the others were tumbled about like dead leaves, the archangel had been thrown face down on the floor and was grinning like a madman. The Hellgod was rather indignantly slid across the floor and came to a stop against a pile of chairs and angels. When the chaos finally stilled, she and Lucifer were among the first to regain their footing.

"Okay, what was that?" Glorificus demanded. "My hair is now a _complete_ and _utter_ mess."

Lucifer chuckled and the other angels just gaped at her. "That, my dear Hellgod, was a little payback from our Auntie Amara. I don't think she appreciated my brothers and sisters here trying to smite her." He looked around. "Clearly my expertise is gonna come in handy, because _God_ _knows_ what's going to come next." The archangel affected a wince. "Ouch. I almost forgot. God doesn't _care_."

Glory was unable to stifle her giggle. It had been a long time since she'd seen a whole room expressing _that_ kind of despair and horror.

* * *

After she had fallen for the tenth time, Buffy had to admit that Giles had been right. She _did_ need time to get used to this thing. It was just irritating to see that "I told you so" look in his eyes.

The problem was that the prosthetic was heavier than her actual arm and so her weight was distributed unevenly. That meant that when she wanted to use those spinning kicks and flips she loved so much she had to be conscious that one side was going to like gravity more than the other.

The biggest open space in the Bunker, other than the shooting range, was the garage. While Spike and Xander argued over the merits of vintage Porches versus modern Porches, Buffy took the opportunity to go through her regular exercise routines. Dawn tried to convince Giles to teach her how to drive, and Willow and Tara were snuggling against a pillar discussing spellwork in between smooches. Anya was still inside happily going through boxes.

The Slayer was getting better with each rep, but she still felt awkward and clunky. It was good she hadn't gone to see Crowley in this state; if she had toppled over trying to punch his face in the demon probably would have laughed himself sick. One day that scruffy jerk was going to get his due. Buffy could only hope she got to participate.

She was in the middle of a handstand when alarms began to blare throughout the Bunker. As Buffy toppled ungracefully the others grouped around her trying to plug their ears. Red lights were whirling about on the walls and the garage door, open to let in the breeze, rolled suddenly shut.

"What's going on?" Buffy shouted. She had finally found something her prosthetic was useless for; she couldn't very well stick a rod of metal in her ear and the gears and gewgaws did nothing to stop the flow of sound.

"No idea," Giles shouted back. He jogged over to the door leading outside and pressed his ear against it. The others followed.

Even through the sirens they could hear the crack of lightning. Thunder rumbled the metal sheet. A few minutes of intense, unnatural weather went by before everything suddenly stopped, including the alarms. The Watcher began to tug at the door handle and was completely stymied.

"Let me try," Buffy offered eagerly. She used her metal arm and _pulled_. Even she was denied. Since the Slayer had had no luck, Spike forwent his turn.

Dawn pulled out her phone. "What happened to my signal?"

Xander and Spike checked their own devices and found the same. "Bollocks," sighed the vampire.

"Hey!" cried Anya as she limped down the stairs. "What was all that? All the stuff upstairs got all flashy and beepy and loud and it was really, _really_ annoying."

"Haven't the foggiest," Giles answered. "I suppose we'll just have to wait until the Winchesters return."

* * *

"I can't get through to any of them," said a frustrated Dean.

"Yeah, me neither," Sam added. "Probably same thing happened like it did with Kevin. Total lockdown."

"Well, we gotta head back that way anyways to grab Rowena. Hey, you think we could get her and Willow to do, like, a witch's duel?"

"Uh, why would we want that?"

"'Cuz Willow's a lesbian," Dean replied eagerly, "and it'd be hot."

His brother stared, disbelievingly. "Dude. Porn. Reality. Separate them before one of them turns you into a frog."

* * *

 **Author's note** : Interestingly, when I got around to the first mention of Crowley's name this chapter hit 666 words o_o


	32. Part III: Chapter 32

7/18/2016 - Yeah, so turns out while I was writing this chapter I realized I forgot to say what Xander was doing in the Bunker back in Chapter 30. Fixed now: he's helping Anya with various… _things_.

I'm beginning to realize that the Buffy stuff had a lot more action and this has a lot more opportunities to be obnoxious. Anyways, smaller chapter than usual because I hit a literary stopping point.

 **Note** : Some lines of dialogue are taken directly from the episode, Hell's Angel (SPN 11x18). I _had_ to put in Crowley's original snark. Also, Latin. Erk.

Thank you mystery guest and **thedarkpokemaster** for the reviews!

* * *

When the Winchesters arrived, and general expressions of relief had been made, the Sunnydale natives were dumbfounded when they learned what had caused the alarm. Sam and Dean were chagrined to realize that in the chaos of dealing with Glorificus and Buffy's subsequent melancholia, they had forgotten to clarify exactly who Amara was.

"'The god that you battle pales in comparison to the one that we must return to face,'" the Slayer recited.

"What?"

She turned to Dean. "Castiel told me that after he… after he healed mom's head. I didn't realize he meant evil God with boobs."

The Slayer's eyebrows lifted when the hunter squirmed. She also didn't miss the significant look that his brother gave him. Something was up with Booby God and Dean and Buffy vowed to suss it out.

"I thought Bizarro God was the devil," wondered Xander.

"Not quite," said Giles as he adjusted his glasses. "It's quite fascinating, really. The Bible doesn't specifically say that he was an angel, nor does it truly specify that he's the leader of Hell. But I suppose you two know the actual story?"

Sam pressed his lips together in a thin line and braced himself to answer. "We know Lucifer is the last of the archangels, God's firstborn sons." He ticked the names off of his fingers as he said, "Lucifer himself killed Gabriel, Cass did Raphael, and Michael, as far as we know, is still stuck in Lucifer's Cage."

"So he's an angel," Willow surmised, "and-and not, you know, all demony and stuff."

"No, angel for sure. Still needs permission before taking a vessel. And Lucifer isn't God's antithesis; he's his most favored son."

The elder Winchester gave an amused snort. "Hah, I just remembered Death called him 'a bratty child having a tantrum.'"

"Hold on," Xander interjected. "Death? As in _the_ Death? Mr. Grim Reaper?"

"Yeah, whole other can of worms," Dean replied, unwilling to expound on the subject. Explaining Death would mean explaining the Mark of Cain which would mean explaining Abaddon… and so on and so forth; not the least of which would be explaining that _Death_ was _dead_. "Look," he continued, "Crowley's deal was we get Lucifer back in his Cage and then he gives us the Hand of God. There's this witch, Rowena, has the Book of the Damned, only thing that has the spellwork to do it."

"She has–" began an astonished Giles.

"Yup. But we figure we've got Red here to help us out with… other Red… so we've got some insurance in case Rowena decides to dick us over."

"And, uh, we wanted Spike and Buffy to come too," added Sam. "Can't go wrong with more muscle."

"Absolutely not," the Watcher objected at the same time Buffy said, "Oh my God, yes," and Spike said, "Hold on a second."

Giles looked at his Slayer. "Buffy," Giles cautioned, "you're not ready."

"Am too! Got my super-robot arm and everything."

Dawn snorted. "Yeah, and the bajillion times you fell over trying to do a fancy kicking thing was really awesome."

While Buffy glared at her sister, Spike peered at the clock. "I hate to argue with you, mate, but the hour? Don't really fancy walkin' out and gettin' fried."

"Crap," Dean cursed as he looked at his brother, "we forgot. Not our kind of vampire."

"Giles should go," Tara suggested.

"Yeah," agreed Willow. "If there's spell work a'happenin' then Giles should be a'helpin' too. I still, you know, need lots more practice."

"Yes," the Watcher agreed, "but Willow has the advantage in raw power. We should both be there."

"Sounds good to me," said Sam. Dean merely shrugged.

"Fine," Buffy responded sullenly. She turned to Spike. "Then _you_ get to help me figure out _this_ ," she told him as she rattled her prosthetic.

The elder Winchester didn't miss the gleam in the vampire's eyes at the prospect of a physical encounter with the Slayer. Alone. "Hey, kid," he said to Dawn, "why don't you help out too, show your sister your new moves."

"Okay!" the teenager replied brightly. Spike glowered at a smug Dean.

"We'll finish the storage room," stated Anya, "we are just cataloguing and not having lots of sex."

"Ahn," Xander groaned as the others stared, "that wasn't what you were supposed to say."

"Oh." She thought for a moment. "We are just cataloguing and not doing anything else. Even though we are occasionally naked."

Everyone just continued gawking until Sam finally choked out, "Just… don't leave a mess."

* * *

They met Rowena at an abandoned church in the small town of Bonner Springs. The witch had made preliminary preparations for the spell to lock Lucifer back in the Cage but refused to let Willow or Giles even glance at the book. Sam saw she affected her normal, haughty mannerisms, but he caught the wary looks she gave the other woman. Youth notwithstanding, there was something in Willow Rosenberg that made Rowena nervous.

Giles helped Dean and Sam paint the combination spell warding/holy oil circle that would hold the archangel while Willow prepared a second, smaller sigil under Rowena's critical tutelage. Now they were just waiting for Crowley.

"S-So you're Crowley's mom?" Willow ventured in an attempt to break the silence.

"Once upon a time, dearie," the other witch replied in her thick Scottish accent. "Wee Fergus has b'n away from mother's eyes for quite some time now."

"Yes, since the ripe old age of _eight_ ," grumbled the demon as he appeared off to one side.

"Fergus," his mother chided, "it's b'n over three hundred years." Her voice became derisive as she added, "Get over it."

"She's not very nice," Willow commented quietly to Sam.

"Yeah, well, she spawned Crowley, so what does that tell you."

"Well, now that you're _finally_ here," Dean said to the demon, "can we get this over with? Where is it?"

From his coat, Crowley produced an old, beat up shofar. The younger Winchester was unimpressed. "That's it? Doesn't look like much, does it?"

"First impressions can be deceiving, Moose," Crowley stated. "For instance, I once thought of you as dull and plodding." When Sam glowered, he smirked. "Oh, never mind. Bad analogy."

"For the record," said Dean, "I still think this is a bad idea. We should be using Lucifer, not icing him."

"I'm _aware_. So I'll be standing right here should you hesitate. The hand that giveth can so quickly taketh away."

"Yes, we getteth it."

"Why'd you bring the tart and her pimp?" Crowley inquired while gesturing at Willow and Giles.

"We're here to make sure you keep to your bargain," replied the Watcher. "For instance…"

" _Allogatio_ ," Willow uttered. The demon was suddenly locked in place, everything on him frozen in its position with the exception of his head. Despite Rowena's misgivings regarding the younger witch, she couldn't help laughing.

"Oh, Fergus!" she chortled, "If only I knew that when ye used to go runnin' off naked into the village refusin' t' do yer weekly washin'!"

"Bloody _hell_ , mother!" Crowley cried. Then to Willow he snarled, "I got your point, you bint. Now let me go!"

" _Libero_ ," she said smugly.

The demon shook out his arms and glared at both witches. "Let's get this done. Sooner the better."

On a front row pew, Dean (who was trying not to linger on the mental image of Crowley pelting down a dirt road in his birthday suit) tossed a match into the bowl of ingredients that sat in front of him. From a scrap of parchment he read, " _In nomine magni dei nostri Satanas, introibo ad altare Domini Inferi_. I summon you to make an offer. The weapon by which its bearer can crush the Darkness forever."

Thunder and lightning suddenly cracked, causing Willow to jump and the others to look around anxiously. With the clacking of hurried heels, Rowena hid just out of sight. When Lucifer appeared, the rest of them wished they could join her.

"Sam, _now!_ " shouted Dean. His brother struck a line of matches and dropped it in the holy oil. Lucifer turned around slowly, a very un-Castiel-like expression of dark amusement on his features as he watched the fire spread.

The archangel set his eyes on Sam, relishing the hunter's naked fear. Nothing could ever erase the horror Sam had felt when he'd been possessed by Lucifer, or the terror that his soul had endured in the Cage as the plaything between two feuding archangels. Lucifer was reluctant to turn away, clearly enjoying the younger Winchester's discomfort.

"Is-Is _that_ Lucifer?" Willow squeaked.

"Yes," said Crowley quietly, " _this_ time it is."

Lucifer's eyes then slid to Dean, whose expression of distaste and fury made the archangel's mirthful smirk grow. "I'm sorry. Your prayer implied that I'd be joining the team, but I'm just not feeling the warm and fuzzy here." He took in the rest of his audience. "Oh look. You even brought the cute little Hellmouth Scooby Gang! They're just so precious." Lucifer clapped and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "I see that you've got the good ol' Horn of Joshua, so let's get to it! Douse the flames, chop chop." Impatiently, the archangel rocked back and forth on his heels and snapped his fingers. "Or don't."

Dean whipped out his pocket knife and sliced into his palm. He smacked his hand against the small sigil that Willow had hidden on the side of a pew and Lucifer went into convulsions. "Cass!" the hunter demanded. "Castiel! Show yourself!"

The vessel grew still. When it looked up, the sardonic glee had been replaced by a familiar stern bewilderment. "Dean…?" wondered Castiel. "What are you doing? What's… What's going on?"

"Cass, listen to me. You need to expel Lucifer! Now!"

"I…"

Once again, the body went into spasms while Dean continued to shout at Castiel to eject the archangel. "It's not working," Giles commented.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Crowley snarled. "So much for Dean's precious bond of friendship."

After a few more moments, Castiel's vessel bent at the waist and laughed derisively. "Oh, oh man, you guys are hilarious," Lucifer snorted, "He's got to _what?_ Honestly, he invited me in. Therefore he _must_ be happy with the arrangement."

" _Cass!_ " Dean yelled desperately.

" _Cass!_ " Lucifer imitated mockingly.

"The warding," whispered Willow urgently.

The red mandala below the archangel had begun to fade in and out of existence. "Uh-oh, someone's in trouble," said Lucifer. "Now, you can hand over the horn nicely, or we can wait for the warding to fail and I'll just _take it._ " He began tapping his foot with one hand thoughtfully placed on his chin.

"Bloody hell," Crowley muttered as he galvanized the minuscule amount of courage he had left. The demon leaned back, opened his mouth wide, and a cloud of black and red smoke billowed from his mouth and headed for Castiel's vessel.

Willow remembered the horrors he had wrought on Buffy and cried, "No! You're not doing this again!" She reached out and entangled her fingers into the cloud as it poured down Lucifer's throat. Both Willow and Crowley then collapsed. The archangel's body slumped while standing, its head lolled to one side.

Giles and Sam rushed to the witch's side. "What did she do?" worriedly asked the younger Winchester as the Watcher cradled her in his lap.

"Damn her," Giles cursed. "She tethered herself to the demon and sent her consciousness into Castiel's mind. Until _Crowley_ leaves, _Willow_ can't."

"Great," Dean groused. "That dickhead better know what he's doing."


	33. Part III: Chapter 33

7/26/2016 - This is probably the longest I've gone so far between posting chapters but I got stuck. I think I've got things going now, so we're rarin' to move on forward! Even though this particular chapter is kinda short. I swear, last shortie one, promise.

Pretty much decided to end the fic at the end of SPN season 11. I've got my DS9 crossover that I'd like to work on and I think I might have a completely different idea for another SPN/BtVS crossover. Maybe Angel. Just gotta think of exactly _how_ to end it though other than "and they lived happily ever after" or "and then they all died"… o_o

Thank you mystery guest, **thedarkpokemaster** , and **Jennee77** for the reviews! And thank you everyone who is following!

* * *

After the Impala departed, the remaining Sunnydale residents collaborated to make a grueling obstacle course in the garage out of tables, chairs, and the cars. Buffy spent the time stretching and experimenting a little more with her new arm, judging how it reacted when vaulting over the balcony railing or seeing how well it held up her weight in a handstand.

Unfortunately, this also gave Buffy empty space to think. Since she had slept with Dean there hadn't been time to determine if it had been more than a single end-of-the-world thing. They needed to talk. However, between her second bout of convalescence and Crowley's demands neither of them had spoken very much.

Now there was Amara, the Sister of God. Who knew there was such a thing? Dean obviously had had some kind of intimate encounter with her. Had they been more than that? Should Buffy even bother to be jealous? After all, wasn't much a little ol' Slayer could do to compete with omnipotence.

It was at that point in her musing that Dawn came to fetch her, chattering excitedly about what they had built. Buffy conceded that the course was truly impressive, considering the dearth of materials, and dutifully began a run. The first few times were slow and awkward as both the Slayer and her friends made necessary adjustments. Then it was a matter of timing Buffy's laps. And after that, they added in projectiles.

Dawn _had_ been training. They'd found an old BB gun stashed in the drawer of the bedroom that Anya and Xander were sharing along with a box of ammunition. Buffy's little sister was turning out to be amazingly proficient. The first time she was hit, the Slayer had to remember that this was for her own benefit. It wouldn't do any good to retaliate, even if the brat jumped and squealed in celebration.

After an hour of continuous laps, Buffy had mastered the course. A half hour after that, Dawn couldn't hit her anymore. Xander gleefully suggested they invest in paint guns for the next time they helped her out with training. They all then headed for the kitchen for some congratulatory pie before finding their own tasks to do as they waited for the others to return.

Buffy headed straight for the showers to sluice off sweat and examine bruises. Some of the itty bitty ones were deep and were lingering despite the Slayer's healing ability. She grumbled over Dawn's choice of targets; it was going to be uncomfortable to sit for at least a few hours.

She had worried a little about rust, but Anya had pointed out that the prosethic had been sitting in a box without insulation or anything and was perfectly fine. There had been the insinuation that Buffy was worrying over something idiotic, but the Slayer let it slide. This time.

Clean comfy pants and tank top now on (her sleeved shirts weren't fitting over the gears) Buffy bounced out of the shower room and ended up with a face full of Spike. More specifically, a face full of his bared chest. "Hey!" she cried, rubbing her nose.

"Hey yourself, Slayer. It's _boy's_ hour if you haven't noticed."

"Well then all the _little boys_ are free to go in," she replied sweetly and began to head for the locker room door.

"Buffy," said Spike as he grabbed her upper arm, "we need to talk."

The Slayer huffed out an exasperated sigh and jerked away. "About what?"

"About your pal, Dean."

"Nothing to talk about," she snapped and turned away.

"I know what you two did," the vampire called as she arrived at the locker door.

Buffy swiveled around. "What in the world are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how you two had a bloody desperate shag right before we left to fight Glory."

The Slayer inwardly cursed the vampire's stupid heightened sense of smell and shrugged at him. "Really none of your business, Spike. If I remember right, one of us had themselves a walking, talking sex doll, so let's not compare partners, okay?"

For some reason, Spike was still smirking despite her reference to that embarrassing robot. "Maybe you should consider comparing with that knob you fancy. Or have you not yet told him about your lover, Broody the Poncey Vampire?"

Buffy stomped back over to him and demanded, "Okay, what the hell is your problem? We had this all out already, your sick obsession and the whole I'm not going to be with you, like, ever!"

"Yeah? What was it you said? 'You're beneath me.' Well, bully for you, Slayer!" the vampire belittled as he became defensive. "I figured all you had room for in that little heart of yours was Angel so I let it be and stuck around. Hey, remember Glory? Remember what I did for you and your little sister? I was nearly _killed_ protecting your sorry asses and you _still_ rejected me. Then all of a sudden this pretty-boy hunter shows up and you go and _spread your bloody legs!_ "

Spike was sprawled out on the tile before Buffy even knew she'd hit him. "Let me make this perfectly clear," she snarled. "Nothing you ever say or do will _ever_ make me love something like you. Get over it or I swear to God, chip or no chip, I will drag you out into the sunlight by that thing between your legs."

The Slayer stormed out of the locker room before she decided to make good on her threat. When Dean got back, she was going to _make_ time for a very, very long talk.

* * *

Willow thought it utterly baffling that she was back in the Bunker, specifically in the kitchen. Not only that, but a bewildered Crowley was standing in front of her. "How did we get here?" she wondered.

The demon started and whipped around to stare at her. "What the bloody hell are _you_ doing here?"

"Followed you in," the witch replied, her eyes narrowing. "Buffy told us what you did to her. Did you think I was going to let you do that to someone else?"

In a hissing whisper, Crowley vehemently replied, "That was when _I_ was possessing _her_. Castiel is already playing host to _Lucifer!_ "

"Will you two please be quiet?" asked the seraph. "I can't hear what I'm watching."

Willow and Crowley both lifted their brows when they caught sight of Castiel. He was sitting on a chair in front of a rolling serving tray, intently surveying a small black and white television. Willow thought she heard some inane game show running. "Cass?" she ventured.

"Oh, hello Willow. Hello Crowley. Don't mind me, just waiting for the showdown with Amara."

"In-In the kitchen?"

"Great reception," he replied as he fiddled with the old-fashioned paired antennae. "Really isn't anything else to do right now."

"Yes there is, you daft moron," growled Crowley quietly. Impatience and urgency laced every syllable. "We have Lucifer trapped, but we don't have much time! You need to expel him so we can put him back in the Cage!"

"Why would we need to do that? Was that Dean I saw a bit ago? It's nice to see him again." The picture on the screen came back into focus and the seraph resumed scrutinizing his show.

"Hey! Hello?" Willow yelled. She waved her hands in front of Castiel's face. "Come on, we're talking to you!"

"That is very rude. Please stop."

"Rude, huh? What if I do… this!" offered the witch as she tipped the television off its stand. It crashed noisily onto the floor. Willow then jumped as the device suddenly reappeared. "Oh, man. That's not fair."

"Yeah," Lucifer said with a sigh, "it really isn't."

Crowley swiveled around and Willow backed into the sink with a clatter of washed dishes. They beheld the archangel, in all his horrifying glory, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

The witch didn't think Lucifer's appearance was very frightening in and of itself. His visage was a tall, dirty blonde man with sorrowful blue eyes and the same amount of stubble that Dean affected most days. There were no horns or pitchforks or even the red eyes that Crowley had so proudly displayed.

Instead there was an aura of power about him, one that dwarfed most anything Willow had ever encountered before. It perhaps even surpassed the Hellgod. However, it was his quiet, malicious smile that made the witch fear the archangel far more than Glory. The Beast had flaws and conceits that were exploitable, sometimes even laughable. She postured and threatened and even threw tantrums.

Lucifer wouldn't bother. Wouldn't think to waste his breath. All of them were merely flies whose wings he pulled for his amusement.

All this Willow surmised as the archangel thoughtfully tapped his chin and looked back and forth between her and Crowley. "This really isn't the time for visitors," he chided. "You, sit." Lucifer gestured downwards with a finger and Willow found herself on the floor with her back against the cabinets.

The archangel then began stalking Crowley. His face fearful, the demon did his best to keep as far away as possible in the kitchen's confined space. "Now, let's start with the bean counter, the would-be king." Without preamble, Lucifer was in front of the demon. He grasped Crowley by the throat, lifted him up, and slammed him down onto the table. "The _nothing_. The _bureaucrat_. The wheedling, pathetic excuse for a demon that thought he could replace _me_."

As Willow struggled to stand, Lucifer proceeded to beat mercilessly on Crowley. However this plane of existence worked, it made the demon more vulnerable than she had ever seen. He'd taken a bullet, point blank range, and had barely flinched, but the blows being delivered by the archangel were producing pained, wordless cries. They struggled back and forth across the room, Crowley desperately just trying to escape while the archangel broke his bones.

"Cass!" the witch shouted. "Castiel! Come on, we need help! Lucifer is _killing_ him!"

"You're going to break something," the seraph yelled at the combatants. Then, sounding rather satisfied, he said, "That should make things better."

Willow watched as Lucifer kicked a prostate Crowley in the stomach. The demon groaned and retched a mouthful of blood onto the floor. She then renewed her efforts to free herself as the archangel headed her way. He lifted her into the air by the front of her blouse and dragged her to the wall.

"Now you," he purred. "Are just the sweetest little thing. I almost _like_ what I see in there. Such potential. All it would take is just the right little trigger and you, little girl, would be just wonderfully apocalyptic."

"Wh-What?"

"I wonder what it would take to drive you over the edge… Hmm…"

Willow tried to think through her fear. They needed Castiel for his knowledge and strength _and_ they needed Lucifer, the last of the archangels, to defeat the Darkness. In order to have both, they would need to be separated. A solution presented itself and she pounced on it eagerly. She shunted aside the little inner voice screaming at her to stop and instead prepared to face the consequences.

Then Willow Rosenberg closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and offered the Devil a deal.

* * *

"The warding!" Rowena shrieked as the last of the glowing sigil vanished. Immediately afterwards, the ring of fire extinguished itself.

Castiel's body fell to the floor. The black and red plume of smoke that was Crowley flowed from his mouth and back into its original vessel. The demon immediately scrambled to his feet and shouted, "That bloody _stupid_ witch!"

Alarmed, Giles looked back and forth from Willow to Castiel, neither of whom were stirring. "What's going on?" he demanded as he stormed over to the demon. The Watcher grabbed Crowley's shoulders and shook him. "Where is she? _What did she do?_ "

The demon didn't answer; he was staring, wide-eyed, at Castiel's body. From the seraph came a white light that swiftly grew unbearably bright. They all shielded their eyes as a shrill whine filled the air. Sam and Dean managed to glance at each other from behind their hands, horrified, as they realized what Willow had done.

When the light and sound faded, Giles blinked the stars from his eyes and saw his red-headed charge thankfully standing, her back towards him. The witch was looking intently at the front and then the back of her hand. "Willow?" he ventured and she turned partially to face him. The malicious little smile on her face filled him with dread.

"Oh, hello," replied Lucifer as his holy light gleamed brilliantly from the young woman's green irises. "I'm sorry, but sweet little witchy has gone bye-bye for now. And we just have so much to do."

* * *

 **Author's note** : I got a lot of flack the last time I messed up a character (Buffy's arm, although I'm curious as to why no one was concerned that I brain-sucked Sam) so I was/am still hesitant about this one. But hey, it's a brave new world in here and we'll see where it goes.


	34. Part III: Chapter 34

7/28/2016 - I made up for my short chapters by making the longest chapter so far. So, yay?

Looks like everyone wants to know what Luci does with Willow. Me too! Someone let me know what happens…?

For Mystery Guest # 1 - I'm leaning towards Lucifer being more powerful than Glorificus by virtue of the fact that she's been cut off from her original dimension. However, Luci's still a full powered archangel. If she were to regain access, well, probably would be a whole different story.

Anyways, thank you **deadly embrace** , **thedarkpokemaster** , Mystery Guests 1, 2, & 3, and **xxRomanceGirlxx** for the reviews! And always, thanks to all who are following!

* * *

Dean tried to find something to say, something to assure Giles that what had happened wasn't something to fear, but the lies wouldn't come. Instead, he withdrew his angel blade and lunged, frantically, hoping to at least distract the archangel enough for the others to get away. After a casual gesture he found himself frozen in place.

"Oh you," said Willow/Lucifer fondly. "Come on, let's all sit and have a chat."

She flapped a hand and Crowley, Giles, Sam, and Dean grunted as they were forced to sit down on separate pews. "Now!" the archangel exclaimed gleefully, rubbing her hands together. "What to do you all, hmm?"

The Winchesters were at a terrified loss, having had firsthand experience with how easily Lucifer could defeat them. Giles' fear, however, was temporarily overwhelmed by his worry. "Where is Willow?" he asked, desperately trying to remain calm.

"Oh, Red Junior? She offered herself in exchange for your little angel over there, and I must say," Lucifer murmured as she used both hands to peer down Willow's blouse, "this is _definitely_ a new experience."

The Watcher struggled at his bonds, indignant at the archangel's invasion of the young witch's privacy. As Lucifer continued cataloguing her new form, Sam shouted, "Willow's _human!_ Are you just going to ride her around until she falls apart like your first vessel?"

"She might be human," Lucifer replied, "but this girl is _strong_. You wouldn't believe the kind of power she has access to! All I'll need to do is pop open the hatch and the magic could keep this body together for virtually forever. Honestly, this is even better than the seraph over there. Speaking of which…"

Castiel was stirring, his hands placed on the ground as he valiantly tried to push himself upright. Lucifer snatched a rusty candleholder, walked over, then stabbed it through the seraph's back and the floor underneath. The seraph cried out in shock and pain. "See? I can be nice," said the archangel. "I didn't put that through your head. It's a little thank you for lending me that vessel of yours."

"Bloody hell," Crowley snarled suddenly.

"Ah, yes. No smoking out, doggy," Lucifer admonished. "We've got lots and lots more obedience training to do." She snapped her fingers and the demon was in front of her wearing a thick dog collar inscribed with sigils. A heavy chain led from it to Lucifer's hand.

The archangel barked, "Lie down!" Crowley's body slammed backwards onto the floor, his head bouncing harshly off the rotted planks. "Up!" she ordered, pointing, and the demon lifted into the air, choking. "Sit!" Crowley crashed downwards, one leg bone cracking loudly upon landing.

"Good boy," Lucifer praised as she ruffled the demon's hair. The archangel snapped her fingers again and Rowena appeared, kneeling and collared alongside her son. "See, doggy? Now we have a bitch to play with too."

The witch gasped and pulled at the chain. "How did ye know…?"

"Didn't, Red Junior did. But we should really be moving on now." The Horn of Joshua flew out from Crowley's coat to Lucifer's hand. "And there it is, the nasty ol' present for Auntie Amara. Now if only I knew where–"

Her speculation was interrupted when the church's doors burst inward, pelting them all with shards of wood. The source was easily ascertained as the Darkness strode in amidst the cloud of dust and debris.

Dean swallowed nervously. The last he'd seen of Amara, she'd burned a message into Castiel's chest as a warning to her nephew and anyone else who vowed to stop her. According to Cass, the combined smiting laid into her by the angels had left the Darkness wounded and charred, but by no means helpless.

There was no sign of weakness now. She was whole and beautiful and overwhelming. Amara's large, dark eyes looked over them all, branding everyone but Lucifer with terror. She lingered most on Dean. He swore there was something harsh, something more than just _want_ in her gaze. It almost felt like disappointment.

He recalled that searing moment prior to Amara's immolation where she chose to express her passion rather than consume his soul. Dean remembered his shock, then his hunger, and if the angels hadn't interfered he might have allowed the Darkness to devour him as she so fervently wanted.

Then he remembered Buffy. _Their_ kiss. That sudden moment in the graveyard and the guilt that had swamped him afterwards. Then his rejection of her and his adamant refusal to drag her into his life. Following that, their subsequent clashes, both verbal and physical, that Dean thought were enough to drive her away.

Yet, bit by bit, as they fought and weathered tragedy together, the Slayer managed to chip a hole through those walls he'd so assiduously built around his heart over the years. It had led to that hour in her bed where they had used the excuse of impending doom to give in to their want for one another. Since then there had understandably been nothing, with subsequent events superseding any attempt to rekindle that ardor, and Dean had allowed loud music and car repair to consume his waking minutes.

But now Amara was here before him, sparking that yearning the hunter thought buried. The two of them locked eyes for a long moment as Lucifer began to chuckle.

"Nephew," acknowledged the Darkness. "Or is it now niece? I'll admit, you've surprised me." She shifted her gaze to Rowena. "And you. I've been tracking _you_ since you left my side," she chided, explaining to the others the source of her regeneration.

The witch sputtered excuses as Lucifer began to glow, her veins becoming infused with the power that was contained within the Horn of Joshua. She jerked on the chains of her "dogs" to silence Rowena and sneered at Amara. "Ready to be sealed away again, dear auntie?"

A blazing stream of fire and energy streamed from the archangel's arm as she pointed the Horn of Joshua at Amara. The Darkness spread her arms, welcoming the rush of power thrown against her. The room filled with a tremendous light once again and all, save the two combatants, did their best shield their eyes.

When it faded, Amara was unmarked.

Astonished, Lucifer dropped the Horn. The Darkness shook her head. "Oh, nephew. It took all four of your brothers _and_ God to contain me before. What arrogance possessed you to think you could do it alone?" She waved her hand and the chains and collars disappeared from around Rowena and Crowley's neck. Another gesture freed Giles and the Winchesters from Lucifer's bindings.

In a fit of pique, the archangel kicked the demon and sent Crowley sailing to the back of the church. He crashed down with a yell, demolishing what had been left of the confession booth.

Amara then began to pull her nephew to her, one hand outstretched. Panicked, Lucifer cried, " _Lanuae!_ " and disappeared with a loud crack, much to her aunt's disappointment.

Rowena took stock and repeated Lucifer's spell, vanishing after making the same report. Having risen to their feet, Giles and Sam took the opportunity to back away from the Darkness while Dean rushed to Castiel and pulled at the candlestick holding him to the floor. The hunter uttered a short series of obscenities as the long piece of metal refused to budge.

A hand reached into his vision and disintegrated the pole. Dean took a step backwards, staring apprehensively at Amara. When she reached out and gently cupped his face, it took all he had not to lean into her hand. "Dean," she whispered, "you feel… different."

Bereft of a plausible excuse, the hunter's mouth opened and closed silently. Amara brushed her hand softly down his cheek then abruptly locked his chin in a vise-like grip. "You are _mine_ ," she hissed, "and whatever it takes, I will make sure you know this." The Darkness released him and was gone between one breath and the next.

Castiel clambered to his feet, swaying. His hand sat over his belly, cradling the still seeping wound left by the candlestick. He took a few staggering steps before falling into Dean. "Dude," the hunter said, surprised, "you okay?"

"Lucifer," the seraph groaned. "His presence… It was burning away my vessel from the inside. Will need time to heal."

"What happened to Willow?" asked Giles as he approached. "What the devil did she do?"

"The bloody witch offered herself to Lucifer!" answered Crowley as he limped over brushing splinters from his suit. "This other bleeding idiot here wouldn't cast him out so she made the brilliant decision to trade places."

The Watcher grabbed Castiel by his coat lapels and, after a few furious steps, rammed him against the church wall. "How could you let her do this?" he shouted. "She's just a _child!_ You're a bloody _angel_ and you should have stopped her!"

"Easy," said Sam as he placed a hand on Giles' shoulder, "there's nothing he could've done. Once she said yes, Lucifer could do whatever he wanted."

As Giles released Castiel, obviously still enraged, Crowley sat down on a pew with a moan. "Archangel had his hooks too far in feathers here anyways," the demon added. He let out a curse as he popped leg bones back inside his skin.

"Gross," commented Dean. Crowley glared, breathing hard from the pain.

Sam sighed. "Well, now we're back at square one. No more Hands of God, and now Lucifer's got access to all that magical power in Willow."

"Let's head back home," offered Dean. "Nothin' more to do here."

"And what am I supposed to do?" Crowley yelled as they headed for the door, Castiel leaning heavily on Giles. "Keep running and hiding like a _rat_?"

"Go find your mother," ordered the Watcher. "We're going to need someone more powerful than just Tara and I to deal with Willow. I dearly hope there isn't anything else we need to worry about."

"You mean other than having both a super powered Lucifer and an omnipotent, angry Amara running amok?" scoffed Sam.

Giles rolled his eyes. "At least Glory isn't around."

* * *

"Ew," Glorificus commented, gesturing her finger up and down. "Not liking this new you."

Lucifer sat on Crowley's throne, one leg hanging over an armrest, sullenly tossing a ball of energy between her palms. A small crowd of nervous demons stood between the pillars looking back and forth from the Hellgod to the archangel.

"Why?" asked Lucifer absentmindedly. "I think I'm pretty."

"Because little bitchy witchy here messed up my bedroom. _Super_ annoying."

"Oh, that was just because you went and ate her girlfriend for lunch. Like the song says: let it go."

"Sire?" a demon proffered. "If-If we might have a word."

Lucifer turned her head to the creature, annoyed. "What?" she groused.

"Your… associate here has murdered several of our brethren for no particular reason we could fathom. We were wondering how long she might be among us?"

"Ugh," uttered Glory when the archangel lifted an eyebrow at her. "They tried to kill me while I was doing my nails!" She pouted at her fingertips which were painted the same blue as her eyes. "I had to start all over because blood and polish? Awful color."

"Um, yes, but not _all_ of them were involved. Some were just trying to… well… walk down the hallway."

"Hey, you guys don't wanna be ripped limb from limb don't stand in my way."

Lucifer twirled her finger and stared at the demon. "So why exactly am I caring about this?"

When he didn't have an answer, the archangel quipped, "Bored now." She pointed and the ball of energy shot out and consumed the demon. He screamed as mystical fire burned him slowly and painfully from the inside out. When it was done, his brethren were unable to tear their eyes away from the pile of bones and ash.

Another bright sphere materialized between Lucifer's hands. "Out," she ordered calmly. Those demons that remained fought one another in their hurry to leave. Soon only the detritus and Glory remained.

"You going to tell me what this is all about?" the Hellgod inquired. "What happened to the cutie with the feathers?"

The archangel rolled her eyes. "He was getting all squishy and mushy inside. Was going to have to find a new vessel soon anyways. Besides, I think with this one I can get the puppy back sooner _and_ accomplish a few other things besides."

"Oh?"

Lightning arced out from Lucifer's fingertips to wrap around the ball. Her eyes filmed over in black at the same time that celestial power shone brightly through her pupils. "They needed me before as the _last archangel_ to put the Darkness back in her hole."

She smiled malevolently. "How very much do you think they'll want me now that I also have the Slayer's _friend_ and all her mystical power?"

* * *

It took nearly the entire drive over for Giles to calm himself down and realize how helpless Castiel had been to prevent Willow from doing what she did. Sam thought it best that the Watcher explain the situation to her friends when they returned and it wouldn't do to place blame unnecessarily.

Most of the Sunnyvale expats sat silent at the conference table, stunned by the news. Tara excused herself to her room, tears spilling down her cheeks. The Winchesters and Castiel stood off to one side to allow them their privacy and steeled themselves for the anger, the sorrow, and the accusations.

What they _weren't_ prepared for was Xander.

Once Giles had finished narrating the events, the young man stood, hand in his hair, and paced. After Tara left, Sam and Dean sat with the others and began quietly discussing possible solutions. The conversation was suddenly arrested by the loud smack of knuckles against flesh and the cascading thumps of books falling to the floor.

"How _could_ you?" Xander roared as he punched Castiel in the face again. "You just _sat there_ and let her _do that_?" He grabbed the angel's tie and broke his nose. " _What the hell is WRONG with you?_ "

Before Xander could inflict any more damage, the others snapped out of their shock and leapt up to stop him. As Buffy and Sam grabbed him from behind, Spike interposed himself between the young man and the angel. Anya ran to the kitchen for ice and towels. Dean and Giles dragged the bloodied Castiel out of the way while Xander continued to kick and yell. All of them were desperately crying out for calm; some assuring Xander that Willow was all right and others defending Castiel's inability to act.

By the time Anya returned, Xander had succumbed to exhaustion, reduced to breathing heavily while glaring lividly at the angel. Castiel was leaning against the opposite bookcase, remorseful, holding back the flow of blood from his nose with Giles' handkerchief.

Anya handed one towel to Dean then put the other on her boyfriend's bruised knuckles. "That was stupid," she said to him frankly. The worried look in her eyes belied her annoyed tone. "He's going to be all right in probably ten minutes and you've gone and broken your hand."

"I can–"

"You're not touching me," Xander snapped, interrupting Castiel's offer. He stood on his own and jerked his arms out of Sam and Buffy's grasps to point viciously at the seraph. "No matter what anyone says, I'm holding _you_ responsible if anything happens to Willow. Lucifer harms one hair on her head and I will jab one of those blade thingies right into your heart!" The young man brushed aside Anya's attempt to soothe his wounds and stalked away. She huffed out an exasperated noise and followed him, muttering about male idiocy.

Castiel hung his head as Buffy sighed. "Xander and Willow have been friends for years," she explained. "Like, besties back during the juice box and ponytails days. Just give him some time to cool down."

"But he's right," answered the seraph. "If something does happen to Willow it _will_ be my fault. I should not have taken in Lucifer." He pulled himself up straighter. "Excuse me," Castiel murmured as he began heading for the exit.

"Wha–Where are you going?" Sam stammered.

"To find him and correct this."

"The hell you are," Dean snarled. He stormed over and grabbed the seraph's shoulder. "We just got you back and we need you here to help us find some way of dealing with Amara!"

"There is nothing I can do. There is nothing any of us can do. Lucifer _failed_. At least I can fix this mistake before the end comes."

"That's it?" Dean asked unbelievingly. "You're just giving up?"

The seraph was silent for a few moments, lost in thought. "The only thing I can think of is to find God. Only He can defeat the Darkness."

"Fine. Then that's what we'll do."

As Castiel stared at Dean, nonplussed, Giles stepped towards them, adjusting his glasses. "Excuse me," he said quietly, "but how do you propose we go about… finding God?"

"We no longer have your amulet," Castiel told the elder Winchester.

Dean rolled his eyes. "We've got a whole frigging bunker full of crap that we haven't finished going through. Don't tell me there won't be something else here."

"The Watcher's Council," added Buffy. "They might have some info."

"Yes," nodded Giles, "I'll need to make some phone calls." He hurried off, mentally preparing a list of inquiries.

"C'mon," Sam urged as he tugged on Castiel's arm. "Since Anya's probably going to have her hands full we need your help looking through those storage rooms." The seraph reluctantly followed the hunter while eyeing the Bunker exit up above.

"Yeah, all right," Spike said with a shrug. He pulled out his phone and confirmed the late hour. "Guess I'll do a cig and snack run." He held out his hand. Dean rolled his eyes and pulled out one of their counterfeit MasterCards.

After the vampire left, only Buffy and Dean remained. They both looked down at the floor. "We need to talk," the Slayer said finally.

"Yeah," the hunter agreed. "Not here."

"Go for a walk?"

The elder Winchester nodded and the two of them headed up the stairs and out of the bunker.

* * *

The being that currently favored the moniker "Chuck Shurley" looked glumly down into the bottom of his beer mug. Things were proceeding down a path that held only chaos and destruction, ending millions of years of wonder and growth. There were no safeguards. In his arrogance, he never once thought that this would ever come to pass.

He refilled his drink and remembered Pope Gregory I. What a whiner. Always complaining about not having enough time to sit around and pray. His most lasting contribution, at least in Chuck's opinion, was the summarization of the multitude of sins into a simple seven. That and Gregorian Chant. Lovely music. Too bad it went out of fashion.

The importance of the sins changed every generation or so. Chuck remembered when sloth had been big, people working themselves to the bone doing menial tasks because industriousness was godliness. Humans were so funny sometimes.

Sometimes the sins didn't even seem to register on their radars as being sins at all. Like gluttony. How many times did pure _want_ become the most driving force? He recalled Caeser, Attila, Napoleon, _Nixon_. America in the 1980s. It was amazing the lengths some would go to get what they wanted.

But the one sin that had haunted Chuck for all these eons was _envy_. Not just his son's hatred for humanity, but the jealousy of his elder sister for… well… basically everything. It was maddening how blind and how _selfish_ she had been. There had been no other way to insure that creation happened other than to lock her up, and so it had been done.

Now she was out. And she was, quite understandably, very mad at him.

Chuck sighed. Those guys huddling in the Bunker had started really looking for him in earnest. With two of his sons dead and one gibbering nonsense in Hell he was the only one left who had even the sliver of a chance of stopping the Darkness.

She was his sister. She was, quite literally, his other half. They couldn't destroy her without destroying everything and she sure as hell wasn't going to go back into confinement willingly. What to do, what to do…

Finally, he reached a decision. A little suggestion here, a lost manuscript found there, and they would find him. Eventually. In the meantime, he'd enjoy his beer and wait.

God sighed again. He summarized his feelings in two simple words.

"This sucks."

* * *

 **Author's note** : If you've watched SPN 11, then you may or may not have gotten the feeling that Amara was obsessed with Dean. I'm of the opinion that the show kind of caved at the last minute about this and I'm going to take it on a ride.

Regarding his Popiness, _George I_ , I'm no theological historian, but I do know about the whole Gregorian chant. The rest I have to attribute to good ol' Wikipedia. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong!


	35. Part III: Chapter 35

8/1/2016 - I got caught up slightly in looking up the significance of compass points so that I could be all symbolic and junk when sitting down Dean and Buffy. Because I'm apparently not quite right in the head. It did make me want to dig up some old anime, though (Fushigi Yûgi anyone?).

Also binged Lucifer (yum yum English accent). I think I have another idea percolating…

I'm not certain how attached anyone is to the actual ending of SPN 11, but I'm probably going to diverge a little. Maybe. I dunno. Most likely.

Thanks **Jennee77** , **thedarkpokemaster** , and **xxRomanceGirlxx** for the reviews! And thanks to those following in the shadows!

* * *

Dean and Buffy strolled around without speaking through the moonlit land around the Bunker. Being primarily farmland, the area surrounding Lebanon was sparse in terms of forest growth, but there were a few copses about the area that hid the "secret" building from general view. Other than that, however, privacy was at a premium.

The night was clear, the stars bright and the moon in a large crescent, which made footing easy. They ended up stopping at the famous landmark denoting the approximate center of the United States. Buffy immediately hopped up and stood on the apex of the hexagonal monument to peer about. "Huh. Never thought this would look so boring."

"We're in Kansas, valley girl," Dean said with some annoyance. "Don't got movie star mansions around every corner."

The Slayer snorted. "Like, oh my God," she quipped, affecting a heavy, beach girl accent. "Totally!"

As Buffy flopped down to sit, Dean pushed himself up to join her. He sat pointing west and she sat pointing north. "There might be some trouble with Amara," ventured the hunter.

"Yeah? What about?"

Dean gave Buffy an abbreviated explanation of the Mark of Cain; how he'd taken it on to defeat Abaddon, the last Knight of Hell, its detrimental effects, and eventually having it removed via magic. He left out certain details, such as dying brutally at Metatron's hands, and skimmed over the violence he'd incurred. It didn't seem necessary for Buffy to know that he had nearly beaten Castiel to death after slaughtering an entire (albeit evil) family.

"So, that thingy was like the lock on her box?" Buffy surmised. "And you guys just sorta used bolt cutters on it?"

"Kinda, yeah," Dean replied. "So me having the Mark of Cain makes Amara think we have this connection, you know? And honestly I can't help feeling the same when she's near."

"Because of the Mark."

"Yeah. I think."

"You _think?_ "

The ensuing silence did nothing to assuage the Slayer's anxiety. "She kissed me, one time, before Dawn called us," Dean finally said. "Never felt anything like that before."

"I don't know what planet you come from, but around here? Talking about incredible kisses from other girls when the one you slept with is sitting beside you is just _asking_ to get whacked in the face by a metal hand."

"That ain't the problem," he clarified. "The problem is when we saw her earlier, she knew somethin' was different, that she didn't have that same hold on me anymore. It's because of you."

Buffy was flabbergasted. "Me?"

With a wry huff of laughter, Dean shook his head and replied, "Yeah, you. Buffy, you're a kid–"

"Oh no, if we're going back to that again–"

"Shut up and listen to me. You're a kid. You can't even buy your own beer yet. Not only that, but you're, like, a freaking psycho mess. _And_ you're probably the most annoyingly stubborn woman I've ever met."

"This is all sorts of romantic."

"Yeah, well, even so, I can't help hoping that when this is all over, you'll stick around. With me."

There. It was out. Buffy was stunned speechless. She was used to Angel and his constant persistence that they needed to be separate from each other for her benefit. Thus, he was in Los Angeles and she was here, half a country away. It still hurt to think of him, a smaller pang now than it had been but painful nonetheless. After all, the vampire with a soul had been her first love, her first lover, and the first to show the Slayer the horrors of absolute evil.

And now here was Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire, offering her his heart on a platter and asking to look at a future together. Buffy already knew that this tale of the Mark and the Darkness was incomplete, but would those secrets really matter? Could she really love this man as deeply as she had loved Angel? Or was she setting up another Riley?

Before Buffy could say which, there was something Dean needed to know.

"I want to," she whispered. "God, I really want to. But there are some things I need to tell you first."

So Dean listened as the girl he had begun to love spun out the gut-wrenching story of a vampire named Angelus.

* * *

It was always good to get the truth out. That was something Chuck was going to have to make sure happened before he could set his plan in motion.

Well, time for the preliminaries.

He promised himself he would only make eenie weenie little nudges. So he added just a little bit of appeal to some artifacts in order to get Sam Winchester to head into a certain area of the storage room.

* * *

The wooden box Sam was trying to get into was being stubborn. Whatever was inside just did not want to come out. He cursed and grunted against the crowbar as Castiel stood leaning against a shelf, morose.

After a few more minutes of getting nowhere, the younger Winchester dropped the tool with a loud clang and irritably asked, "Dude, little help?"

Without altering his expression, the seraph walked over, jerked the top of the box off one-handed, then resumed brooding. Sam took a moment to appreciate his celestial friend's strength before starting to dig through the shavings.

"Sam," Castiel said quietly, "was it wrong?"

"What was?" the hunter responded absentmindedly. The box had a collection of scrolls written on parchment. Around the top and the sides was a great deal of wax, which explained why it was so difficult to open the box.

"Taking in Lucifer. You are the only one who would understand."

Sam paused in his exploration and grimaced, recalling the harrowing days he had spent letting the archangel use his body as a vessel. He thought of Lucifer's "gifts," those demons that had followed the hunter throughout his life, and the gratifying slaughter that had followed. Then there was the sickening image of his hands beating Dean bloody, and the surge of strength it had taken to stop before his brother died.

Now the archangel was riding around in a young woman whose life was far more innocent than his had been. She might even now be watching her hands choke the life out of someone. It was possible that Lucifer would damage her irrevocably, physically and psychologically. Even if they could get him out, the Willow that emerged might not be the one that they knew.

However, the angel didn't deserve all the blame. "Cass, I couldn't do it. Lucifer asked and I refused, even though we thought he was our only hope of defeating the Darkness. I was too scared to think of what he might do wandering around free." Sam carefully broke the seal on a scroll and unraveled it. "You stepped up and you gave us a _chance_. So, no, it wasn't wrong. It was just… Hey, can you read this? It looks like Enochian."

Noticeably less dejected, Castiel walked up and gently took the scroll. Immediately his eyes widened and he hurried out of the storage room. A confused Sam followed. "Cass?" he called. "Cass!"

The seraph headed straight for Tara and Willow's room and banged open the door without knocking. Tara, who had fallen into an exhausted sleep on top of the covers, shot upwards and let out a yelp. Castiel then demanded, "I need your help with a spell."

"Wh-What?" stuttered the witch. "What's going on?"

"Spell," the seraph repeated. "I need your help with a spell."

"I-I-I suppose." She squinted at Sam. "What time is it?"

"Around one thirty in the morning," he answered before grabbing Castiel on the shoulder. "Cass, what the hell is going on?"

The angel held up the scroll. "This is a communing ritual. It's meant for a single entity."

"Who?"

With a fiery look in his eyes, Castiel simply stated, "God."

* * *

Chuck nodded to himself. Okay, step one completed. Now on to step two.

He did his best not to eavesdrop on the Winchester and the Slayer, but honestly? Watching their romance bloom was a guilty pleasure.

* * *

"Dear me," Rowena gasped, then coughed out a mouthful of dust.

Her current hideout, an empty crypt in an abandoned cemetery somewhere in what these Americans called the Midwest, was large but dusty. The remnants of fumes from the protective sigils she'd painted on the walls didn't help.

However, the witch couldn't help being shocked at what she had discovered in the folded hands of the moldering corpse sharing her abode; a parchment scroll, probably left as a favorite heirloom or such nonsense. It was frankly a minor miracle that she hadn't noticed it before.

The thing exuded power, _magical_ power, and as the old axiom goes, "Finders, keepers!" Rowena reached in and carefully extracted the thing. Its owner's hand and arm came along for the ride and she pragmatically shook off the dusty bones. She unraveled it and stared, disappointed. The text was a spell, that she could fairly be certain of, but the script was Enochian.

Rowena let out disgusted huff. The only people she knew of who could read the language were angels and her dear disappointment, Fergus.

Oh well. Her son had been looking for her anyways. Might as well make his search a little easier.

* * *

Step two: done. Step three was going to have to wait until steps one and two met up.

Chuck sighed. He couldn't help it. He _had_ to see what was going on with Dean and Buffy.

Wow.

That didn't go well.

* * *

Dean took the Slayer's tale of loving a vampire as well as could be expected, which meant the conversation ended with the two of them shouting furiously at one another as they walked back to the Bunker.

The hunter couldn't believe that Buffy would be so idiotic to fall for Angel's nonsense. A vampire was a vampire in his opinion, repentant or not, and Spike had done nothing to dissuade the assumption. The fact that the vamp had a _soul_ wasn't enough for Dean to concede to Angel's supposed virtuous ways, especially considering the bloody swathe that he and the other three vampires had cut through Europe. There was no way that he could believe Angel would spend his eternity without reverting to type.

Buffy was absolutely outraged at Dean's stubborn stance and his inability comprehend that Angel and Angelus were two separate people. She wasn't stupid, and she wasn't blind to the vampires notorious exploits, particularly since the Watchers had catalogued them in great detail. Angel had been seeking redemption, atonement, and he'd been caring and kind. She loved him for his passion, his absolute commitment to her, even when he made decisions that broke her heart. And now here was this stupid, _stupid_ hunter who couldn't see past the fangs to the man underneath. In his eyes, what did that make her?

When Dean slammed the door closed, he startled the group that was congregated around the map table. He practically slid down the stairs before storming off. Sam's attempt to get his attention went completely ignored. A minute later, a second door slam was heard as the elder Winchester took refuge in his room.

Buffy walked down the staircase in a more dignified manner as Sam asked, "What the hell was that about?"

"That was about your brother being an ass," she replied flatly. "What's going on?"

"Castiel found a spell to contact God," explained Tara.

"Really?" Buffy asked as she joined them around the table.

"Problem is, it's-it's only half a spell."

"It was written by Metatron," grumbled Castiel. The name was said with a good amount of vitriol. "He made a footnote. Apparently the spell was supposed to be part of the Angel Tablet, but our Father changed his mind and made him erase it. Metatron, being _Metatron_ , couldn't bear to have anything he'd ever written down to be forgotten and rewrote it behind God's back."

"So why's it in half?" Buffy wondered. She picked up the parchment and started looking at it from all angles. It honestly appeared like just a bunch of shapes and squiggles.

"Far as we can tell it was to hide his transgression," said Giles. "Castiel says that exactly half the ingredients and half the instructions are included. Without the rest, we're basically wasting our time."

"And the ingredients list sucks," Sam added. He pulled out his phone and brought up the translation on a notation app. "A piece of the Black Stone from the Kaaba, Islamic holy place in the middle of _Saudi Arabia_ ," he explained when Buffy blinked confusedly. "Dirt from the Wailing Wall. A hair from the leader of God's following, which I guess would be the freaking Pope."

"Wow," Buffy remarked. "Not exactly a trip to the grocery store kinda thing."

The rest of them stared, baffled, as Castiel began climbing the stairs. "Cass?" Sam wondered.

"I am going to go retrieve the items," the seraph replied. "I'll be back hopefully by the morning."

As soon as the Bunker door shut, Tara looked at Sam and asked, "Was he joking?"

The younger Winchester ran his fingers through his hair and gave a quiet chuckle. "Uh, nope. He's done it before."

"In the meantime," Giles offered, "I think it would be good if we all got some rest. We'll need to figure out where the other part of the scroll might be if we're going to be able to cast the spell."

The group dispersed with yawns and farewells, Buffy remaining behind. She was still too upset to sleep, but wasn't quite ready yet to go confront Dean without beginning the conversation with her fist. Therefore, when someone banged on the door, she was there to open it.

"That was fast–oh," the Slayer broke off as she realized it was Spike at the entrance and not Castiel.

The vampire was carrying a paper bag full of junk food. "Brought guests," he announced. "They're waiting in the car."

"What?"

"Just so you know, they found me, not the other way around."

"Okay," she responded suspiciously. "You going to tell me _who_ they are at some point?"

"Crowley and his mum," said Spike, blithely. "Said they had somethin' that you lot would want to see."

* * *

All right then. Things were coming together. Now it was a matter of waiting patiently.

Chuck told himself he wasn't making them go through all unnecessary nonsense because he wanted to delay the inevitable. It was only to get all the players in one room. That would make it easier to get them to listen to his plan and he wouldn't have to repeat himself a million times. Maybe they could look on it as a sort of test of faith. He'd been really fond of those way back when.

Anyways, there was still step three to accomplish. He just hoped his son would be able to compromise.


	36. Part III: Chapter 36

8/5/2016 - I got busy writing epilogue in order to firm up everyone's fate. It's kinda long, but how long is an epilogue supposed to be anyways?

Thanks to Mystery Guests 1 & 2, **Jennee77** , **thedarkpokemaster** , and **xxRomanceGirlxx** for the reviews! And thank you everyone who is following and favoriting! Drop me a line if you can :D

* * *

The Winchesters refused to let the MacLeod "family" inside the Bunker. In fact, Dean took out some of his anger over Buffy on Spike, treating him to a blistering rant over his stupidity in leading the demon and the witch to their haven. The vampire took it stoically while smoking on a cigarette and, when the elder Winchester finally finished, flicked the butt at the hunter's chest. If Dean had been holding anything remotely sharp, Spike would have found himself shorter by a head.

Dean then turned towards Crowley and Rowena who were observing the spectacle from the other side of the vampire's vintage Buick. He informed them that they could come in wearing sigil-inscribed cuffs or they could stuff their scroll up each other's asses and human centipede it back to whatever hole they crawled out of.

While Crowley pondered the logistics of such an act, Rowena rolled her eyes. "It's a spell to contact yer so-called God," she said impatiently. "So if yer wanting to be rid of the dark force _you_ unleashed than maybe ye should be a wee bit more polite."

"Problem is," added the demon, "it's only half the bloody spell."

Unwilling to reveal to the pair that they already had the other portion, Sam asked, "So what are we supposed to do with half a spell?"

"Go snuffling about for the other part, Moose. In the meantime, I'll be off looking for these bleeding ingredients."

"Like what?" Dean snarled.

Crowley ticked the items off his fingers. "Stone from a Devil's Bridge, dirt before a Gate to Hell, and, quite classically, the blood of a virgin, which includes absolutely no one in the immediate vicinity. And that's only some of them."

There was Dawn, most likely, but the thought of Crowley getting near her again was abhorrent. "Well?" snapped Dean after a beat of silence. "Leave!"

Sam and Crowley exchanged bemused looks. "Squirrel got his tail stuck in a blender?" quipped the demon. He then disappeared when Dean clenched his fists and began to advance.

"Dude!" exclaimed the younger Winchester.

"Well, this has been _absolutely_ fascinating," said Rowena, "but it's getting late, or… early," she amended, looking at the dawn peeking over the horizon, "and I'd like a place to put my head, if you please."

Spike, who had been chain smoking on his car's hood, let out a curse and got in the driver's side. Without preamble he drove off, ostensibly to replace the auto back into the garage and to hide from the sun. The vampire's departure left the Winchesters standing there with a puzzled witch. She lifted an eyebrow.

"Which of you has the scroll?" asked Sam.

"Fergus, unfortunately."

"Fine," growled Dean. He pulled his gun and used it to gesture Rowena towards the door. "You do what we say _when_ we say, got it?"

The witch lifted her hands. "That's quite unnecessary, I assure you."

"Yeah, well, not taking chances."

Dean guided Rowena to a spare, dusty bedroom and gestured her inside at gunpoint. She folded her arms and expressed her deep dissatisfaction with her lodgings before the hunter slammed the door closed and braced a chair against the knob. It might not do anything to hold a witch of her caliber but it would at least make enough noise to warn them of her pending escape.

After passing a smirking Spike through the hallway, Dean decided he really, really needed a beer. He headed for the kitchen and grabbed one out of the refrigerator. "What are you still doing up?" he asked Sam.

"Needed to talk to you," his brother answered. "What the hell is going on? You're acting like a dick."

"What, to Fergus and his mommy?" Dean scoffed as he sat across from Sam.

"Well, no. Not like I'm _ever_ worried about how crappy they think we're treating them. I meant whatever happened with Buffy."

"Dunno what you're talking about."

"Oh don't give me that crap. She already told us you were being an ass."

The elder Winchester remained silent, taking slow swallows of beer. "Well?" Sam finally demanded irritably.

Dean sighed. "Dude, she used to screw a vampire."

"Wait, what?"

"One of those vamps from her town, guy named ' _Angel_ ' of all things. Used to run around Europe murdering and torturing people with our resident Bieber and two chicks. Apparently there was some curse that stuffed his soul back in and he turned into an emo douchebag. Then Buffy had sex with him and he went back to being a _regular_ douchebag and killed a bunch of people."

Sam lifted his eyebrows. "None of that makes any sense."

"You're telling me."

"And?"

"And what?"

"That _can't_ be everything."

"Why not?"

"Because you two have been eyeing each other from the start, and now you're acting like you finally got her pants off and found out she has a penis."

"No, she definitely does _not_ have a penis."

"How would you–" Sam cut himself off and stared at his brother disapprovingly. "When?"

"Right before we saved your brain-sucked ass from the Hellgod."

The Winchesters were silent for a few minutes, each lost in their own musings. Honestly, Sam couldn't fault his brother for finding solace in the Slayer's arms during those tumultuous days. He'd done the same and worse with the demon, Ruby, all those years ago. However, what had been between him and Ruby was lust and not much more, especially after he'd been intoxicated with demon blood. Beneath Dean's surly attitude, however, Sam could hear that little bit more that said Buffy's revelations had actually _hurt_. Whatever was going on between them was actually transcending simple sexual desire.

"Do you love her?" Sam asked quietly.

"No!" his brother denied as he clunked his empty bottle on the table. "I don't know! Maybe. What difference does it make?"

"Dean, it makes all the difference in the _world_. When was the last time you had something more than just casual sex?"

"Uh, Lisa, I guess."

"And that was, what, five years ago? Come on, man. Don't tell me you're sabotaging this over some old boyfriend, even if he is a vamp."

"Dude, why the hell are you getting so much in my face about this?"

The younger Winchester sighed then shrugged. "Maybe because I've had Jess and Amelia, and I wanna see if my brother will ever get the chance to experience the same thing."

"Yeah? And where are they now, huh?" Dean's temper inexplicably rose. "One's six feet under and the other one is… I dunno, not here! Look at you, Sammy. Not like you're rocking the picket fence and crap."

"Well, no, but–"

"Uh-uh, no buts! There ain't one relationship with anyone at all that we've loved that's turned out good!" He started ticking names off his fingers. "Dad, Jess, Jo, Ellen, Bobby… Hell, look at all the crap _Cass_ has been through because of us! We're frigging poison!"

"So that's it?" Sam scoffed. "You're gonna give up on a good thing because you're _scared_ of something that hasn't even happened?

"You're goddamn right I'm scared," Dean said, his anger suddenly deflating. He stuffed his fingers in his hair and leaned an elbow onto the table. "I'm freaking _terrified_ , man. Losing her to some demon or angel or _whatever_ because she's part of my world? I don't think I could live with myself."

The younger Winchester looked at his brother. He understood Dean's reticence, but it was still disappointing. "Just… think about it, all right?" Sam asked. "Don't throw this away just because of what _might_ happen or you're going to look back and regret not knowing what might have been."

Dean made an indifferent promise and stood up. He flung his beer bottle into the trash and headed for his room. His brother lingered in the kitchen a few moments longer, waiting for that door to slam down the hallway, before saying, "How much did you hear?"

Buffy came around the corner of the doorway on the other side of the room. "Pretty much everything," she quietly replied as she sat in the seat the elder Winchester had vacated.

"And?"

The Slayer heaved a sigh. "Do me a favor? Tell me about all those people you mentioned?"

Sam got up, retrieved two beers, and handed one to Buffy before sitting back down. "Sure you don't wanna go get some sleep instead?"

"Vampire Slayer, remember?" Buffy countered as she twisted off the top of her bottle. "Sleep is for the not-regularly-slaying-creatures-of-the-night population."

Sam took a swig of beer, smiled sadly, and began with his murdered fiancée.

* * *

It was nearly five in the morning, but seeing as how nearly everyone had a late night nobody else was up. Buffy could hear Giles snoring down the hallway.

She'd been staring at Dean's door for nearly ten minutes. Those stories, all that death…

Buffy remembered what Dean had screamed at her that night in the graveyard, about his father and the bar and the kid. Now she knew about the demon Azazel's role in both John Winchester and Jessica Moore's deaths, the Harvelles and their sacrifice, and Bobby Singer. The last one seemed to linger with her the most, not only for the fact that the brothers looked at the man like a father, but because she remembered what Spike had told her when she'd asked him how he'd killed those two Slayers: that all the bad guys needed was "One good day." _That_ particular day had been Dick Roman's.

Then there was Castiel, the fallen angel, who gave up all he'd known for untold eons, who had done so much wrong trying to do right, and who had, time and time again, put himself in mortal peril for the brothers he called friends. Buffy felt ashamed for how angry she had been at the seraph over her mother's death now that she knew how much Castiel tried to do.

She was the Slayer. She'd faced countless vampires and demons and even a few apocalypses. So why was it so hard to open a damn door?

Buffy reached out for the handle and found it yanked away. A sleep-tousled Dean was standing there blinking blearily at her. "Why the hell have you been standing there?"

"Can we talk? Again?"

With a grumpy affirmation the hunter walked back in his room. Buffy walked in and looked around. On one wall hung a variety of blades and guns, including an ancient looking one that seemed to have teeth. Behind the queen bed was a collection of other sorts of weaponry; crosses, hex bags, things that looked like stakes but most likely weren't. There were no posters, no photos other than a small one of a woman and a boy on the desk (his mother?), nothing that really denoted a personalized touch other than the arsenal. As Dean sat on his bed, yawning, she slowly paced around.

"Did you just come to snoop?" he snapped. "Or do you actually got something to say?"

Buffy sighed, frustrated. "Look, I came to say I'm sorry, okay? I should have said something a long time ago, probably before we got all naked and sweaty."

"Damn straight you should've."

She nearly kicked him in the shin. "You're such a jerk, you know that?"

Surprisingly, Dean ran fingers through his hair, his irritation vanishing in an instant. He looked at the floor. "Yeah, I know."

"You do?"

"You ain't the first girl I've run off. Buffy, I'm not an idiot. I know there's somethin' in me that's broken after all these years. It's not fair to anyone to have to deal with it or try to fix it."

The Slayer folded her arms. "And what if that 'anyone' is okay with dealing with it? And doesn't _want_ to fix it?"

Dean gave her that smirk of his. "Then that 'anyone' is a crazy person."

Buffy threw her arms out and let them drop to her sides. "I just wanted to say that if you're willing, I'm willing. If you want me to stay when this is all over I'll stay. If you can't get past what I've done, or _who_ I've done, or you can't get over whatever you're afraid _might_ happen then I'll go."

The hunter just stared, his expression inscrutable. When he didn't say anything more, Buffy grimaced and headed for the exit. Before she could walk through, however, the door slammed shut. Dean grabbed her shoulders to flip her around and face him, pressed her tight against the wood with his body, and kissed her.

After momentarily dealing with the surprise, she kissed him back. This was something more than the hunger they'd sated before facing Glory. Then, there had been the impending sense of doom, and the urgency of what could have been their last hours alive. This was purer, more about love than lust, and yet just as ravenous as before. When she tried to push him away, just to catch a breath, he grunted something incomprehensible and kissed her deeper. Her fingers tangled in his hair.

They eventually made it back to his bed. Buffy fleetingly hoped that the walls were thick because the sounds that Dean was drawing from her were nothing she wanted anyone else to hear.

* * *

"Doggy!"

The glee in Lucifer's tone boded nothing well for Crowley. Slung chained between two traitorous demonic lackeys, the former King inwardly cursed. They dumped him on the floor before the throne. He coughed, clearing his mouth of what felt like pieces of lung, then looked up to behold a pair of expensive heels. A hand with pristinely lacquered nails grabbed him by the neck and hauled him up. The Hellgod's unnatural blue eyes looked into his own, rather normal brown ones and promised pain.

"Hey, you!" greeted Glory. "I have so much planned for us! Do you want to start with sharp or blunt?"

Crowley responded with an incomprehensible gurgling, choked sound. "Glory, honey?" said Lucifer. "Doggy can't speak with a crushed larynx."

The Hellgod dropped her package and sighed. "Fine," she pouted.

The archangel swung her leg off of the chair arm. She walked over and knelt in front of the demon. "I didn't think you were that stupid, doggy. Walking around in broad daylight? You were just _asking_ to get caught. So that begs the question: what in the world were you thinking?"

"Need… blood…" Crowley spat. Those damn idiots had probably perforated a lung. He had expected a beating as soon as that van door opened, he just hadn't calculated how severe it was going to be.

"Seeing as how you're leaving a puddle of it on my floor, you must need someone specific. So," Lucifer wondered, her index finger lifting the demon's chin, "is it me or blondie?"

"'Blood of the first fallen.'" Crowley recited. "Which if it isn't you, then I've wasted a good suit for nothing."

The archangel's brow furrowed. "Is there a reason or are you starting some sort of macabre collection?"

"Sounds like a spell," offered Glory.

"May I?" begged Crowley. When Lucifer stepped back, the demon brought himself to a sitting position against a pillar and withdrew a blood stained scroll from his jacket. The archangel snatched it away and unfurled it.

"Why are you running around with half a spell, dummy?" she pondered. Then her eyes widened.

"What? What is it?" Glory inquired.

"This is a spell to phone good ol' dad," murmured Lucifer as she scanned the parchment up and down. When Crowley made to stand, she slammed a booted foot into his chest and turned her eyes to him. "Where's the rest?" she snarled.

"My best guess is with the _Winchesters_ ," the demon replied.

"And they are where exactly?"

When Crowley didn't answer, Glory plaintively asked, "Can I have him now? Guarantee you I can make him sing."

"No!" the demon cried. "I came to make a deal."

The Hellgod lifted an eyebrow at Lucifer who explained, "Crossroads demon." As Glory rolled her eyes, the archangel looked back at Crowley. "Well?"

"You leave me alone after the Darkness is gone," he stated, "and I'll give you what you want. Both of you."

"What the heck could you possibly have that I want?" Glory asked, puzzled.

Crowley smiled knowingly at her. "I can get your Key. And the Slayer can't do a thing about it."


	37. Part III: Chapter 37

8/7/2016 - Been pondering the next BtVS/SPN crossover to do. Thinking of making Buffy their sister next time. Whole new relationship to write about, especially if I started somewhere towards the beginning and had daddy Winchester in the mix. Problem is, going to run out of Buffy waaaaaaay before Supernatural and I don't want to get tangled up in that Twilight thing.

Also, I have no freaking clue what I'm doing with these semi-romantic scenes. If anyone has some suggestions I am all ears.

Anyways, thank you Mystery Guest, **xxRomanceGirlxx** , **Jennee77** , and **thedarkpokemaster** for the reviews! And whattup all y'all following and favoriting!

* * *

Buffy woke up feeling wonderful.

It wasn't so much the sex (although that had been fantastic), it was the feeling that she was waking up in the right place with the right person. With Riley, there had been cuddles and sweet talk. With Parker there had been coffee and lies. With Angel… well, best not to think of what happened after Angel.

With Dean it was apparently going to be spooning and snoring.

There were no windows in the bedrooms, so judging the time by the sun was out of the question. When Buffy tried to reach for her phone, Dean murmured something unintelligible and tightened his arm around her body. She sighed happily and snuggled closer in.

It didn't matter what time it was. The day could wait.

* * *

"Has anyone seen Buffy?" asked Giles.

"Not since last night," replied Sam from the refrigerator. He looked at the clock. Eleven-ish, so maybe a brunch…? The younger Winchester pulled out eggs and sandwich fixings and handed them off to Tara.

"Wh-What about Castiel?" queried the witch.

"Nope."

The Watcher adjusted his glasses. "Ah well. I'll prepare the coffee."

* * *

Spike knew where she was.

He could smell them both in that room even over that rancid meal the Goliath and the witch were making. It was maddening. Why couldn't Buffy see that hunter for what he was? All Dean had of value was his looks and, apparently, whatever was in his pants. Other than that, the man was an uneducated, coarse-mouthed hick. Had good taste in music though.

They hadn't seen the vampire when the pair took their little jaunt to the tourist site and he'd gotten an earful of juicy gossip. When Buffy told Dean about Captain Forehead and the two of them had stomped off yelling, Spike had quietly celebrated. He'd hoped that it drove enough of a wedge between them that the Slayer would put these brothers behind her when all this was done. After that, well…

There were times Spike had envisioned catching her in a moment of weakness, maybe comforting her after Dean put her to the curb a final time. Then the girl would be _his_.

Now she was back in that stupid twat's bed. There would be no chances now. Except…

That connection thingy the Winchester had with Amara gave Spike an idea. Granted, like most of his ideas it was half formed and had a lot of openings for something to go wrong, but it was at least there. He missed, just a little, those days with Angelus, Darla and Dru; the elder vampires were always good with the plans and he and Dru were experts at chaos.

"Hey, Spike!" Dawn greeted cheerily as she came around the corner and headed for the kitchen. "Whacha doing?"

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking."

* * *

During their meal, the elephant in the room was the fact that Dean hadn't come to eat and Buffy hadn't slept in her room. All of them, save Spike, felt happy for them, if by varying degrees. The vampire looked down into his mug of heated blood and glowered.

Anya walked in as they were giving Giles a good-natured ribbing over how many books he'd gushed over since they had arrived. Apparently the Watcher had nearly cleared an entire shelf's worth of Men of Letters research and was looking forward to more. The ex-demon grabbed some bread and some eggs and smashed them together before sitting beside Dawn.

"How's Xander?" Giles wondered.

"Better," Anya replied around a mouthful of scrambled egg. She swallowed and continued. "He did his stomping around and yelling and then actually cried a little, which was weird, then we had sex and went to sleep. Where's Buffy?"

As most of them were thrown by Anya's unwillingness to conceal her intimacies, Spike snarled, "Ask Dean."

Sam cleared his throat and Giles appeared distinctly uncomfortable. Wide-eyed, Dawn glanced around at everyone and began to ask, "You mean they're–"

"Phone call!" Sam interrupted as he pulled out his vibrating Samsung. The caller ID made him roll his eyes. "Crowley," he informed the others then demanded into the phone, "What?" The hunter listened to the demon speak for a bit and then put him on speakerphone. "Repeat that again."

Irritably, Crowley said, "The last ingredient involves Lucifer. I'm with him… _her_ now. They would like to negotiate an exchange for their cooperation."

"Excuse me," Giles interjected. "What do you mean, 'they'?"

From the speaker came the unmistakeable sound of a scuffle with a female assailant. It ended at a thump and a short cry of "Ow!" from Crowley. Something picked up the phone and yelled, "Hey! You! It's past time you returned that thing you stole from me, isn't it?"

They all recognized the voice. A pale, breathless Dawn fearfully whispered, "Glory."

* * *

There was blonde hair tickling Dean's nose, and it was wonderful.

Strange to wake up and want to stay with who you were in bed with. Not some skank or lonely waitress from the current town they were hunting in, but a woman that he thought he'd never regret waking up to. There were, however, a few minor tweaks to be worked out, one of which was the fact that there were pieces of metal stabbing him in the chest from her prosthetic. When he tried scooting a bit away, Buffy turned around and faced him. "Hey," she murmured.

"Hey yourself," Dean responded. "We might wanna get up. Bet you it's late."

"Don't wanna," she pouted. Buffy proceeded to snuggle in closer, her head nestling into his shoulder. "Let's stay in bed all day."

The hunter kissed her on the forehead, and continued kissing gently down her face. As her lips met his, he thought staying in bed all day might be a grand idea.

Then someone rapped on the door and Sammy, his eyes theatrically covered with one hand, stole inside. "Dude!" Dean objected as Buffy squeaked and hid her head under the covers. "Knock!"

"I did," his brother replied confusedly as he closed the door. "Hey, Buffy."

Muffled by blankets, the Slayer said, "Hi Sam."

Disbelievingly, Dean watched the younger Winchester hand over Buffy's shirt then take a seat on the couch across from the bed. "There a reason for this or are you just being annoying?"

"We have a problem," Sam explained. Dean handed his bedmate her clothing underneath the covers.

"Great. Now what?"

"The last ingredient on Crowley's list has something to do with Lucifer. Thing is, Glory's with him."

Buffy popped out of the covers, her shirt mostly on, to say, "What?"

Sam sighed. "She wants her Key."

"No way in _hell_. Pants, gimmie!" the Slayer demanded. Dean leaned over the side and handed Buffy the requested garment. She shuffled them on under the blankets and stood up. "So what now?"

"Well, we agreed to a meeting. Giles and Tara are getting spells ready, like shields and stuff. We don't know what's going to work on the Hellgod anymore and pretty much nothing's going to work on Lucifer. Soon as Cass gets back we need to head out."

"To where?" asked Dean as he put on his own pants.

"Lawrence. Stull Cemetery." The brothers exchanged furious looks. "Lucifer thought it was _funny_."

"I'm not getting the funny here," Buffy stated.

"City where we were born," explained Sam. "Cemetery's the place where we shoved Lucifer back in his Cage."

Dean's shoulders tightened at the memory of watching his little brother hurtling himself and Michael into that swirling gateway. There were a few places on Earth he would never like to return to and that tiny, weed laden graveyard would probably rank in the top five. The hunter shook himself out of his reverie when Buffy stomped out of his room and slammed the door behind her. They could faintly hear her calling for her sister down the hallway.

As Dean continued dressing, he realized that Sam was still in the room. His brother's face reflected a strange mix of worry and hilarity. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah, well, your face don't look like it's saying 'nothing.'"

The younger Winchester shrugged. "I'm just… happy for you that's all."

"Oh come on," his brother groaned as he tied his laces.

"Okay, okay. Just don't screw this up."

"What? Why?"

Sam stabbed a finger towards the door. "Because I'm pretty sure you'd have about half a dozen people beating your ass down for it, and at least two of them can cast spells."

"Oh crap." Dean suddenly hurried for the door.

"What?"

"We forgot to let Rowena out. Hope she didn't piss on the carpet."

As Sam followed, he called out, "Dude, she's a witch! Not a dog."

Dean shouted back, "Can't say that in her case there's much of a difference."

* * *

"Absolutely not."

Dawn crossed her arms stubbornly and swore not to act like a child. "Buffy, this isn't your decision to make."

"I am your _older_ sister and legal guardian. It _is_ my decision to make no matter what you think!"

The younger Summers threw her resolution out the window. "Yeah, well I'm really a big blob of green energy that's a gazillion years old! So who's older than who now, huh?"

"Is that what this is about?" Buffy asked incredulously. "I thought we went over this already. You are not some glob of energy. You are my sister." She placed her hands gently on the young girl's cheeks. "I love you, and I don't want to lose you."

"I know." Tears were beginning to spill. Dawn knew her sister thought she was frightened of Glory, but her fear was seated in something far worse. Maybe it was time to get her secret out into the open. "Buffy…"

The Slayer sighed and moved her hands to her sister's shoulders. "Don't worry. We'll figure this out, okay?"

Regardless whether she told her now or later, Buffy was going to find out. Later was better than now, however, in Dawn's opinion. Besides, what her sister didn't need right now was another distraction. Speaking of which, _there_ was a perfect way to change the subject. "Are you boinking Dean?"

"Dawn! That's none of your business!"

"Uh, yeah it is. Can I plan the wedding?"

"What?"

"That's what sisters are supposed to do, right? Plan the cake and the music and stuff?"

"Oh my _God_ ," Buffy gasped as she flung her arms up and headed for the hallway.

"Just so you know, as a bridesmaid I want to wear pink!" Dawn called from her doorway.

Her sister stuck her palms over her ears and uttered loudly, "La la la la la!" The pseudo-song continued as she walked away.

Dawn leaned against her doorframe and bit her lip. There was no way, after everything that had happened, after she had _lost her arm_ , that Buffy would be okay that her sister had made a literal deal with the devil. She just hoped that one day she would be forgiven.

* * *

The drive to Lawrence was going to take a few hours, so the remainder of the day was spent in preparation. Rowena, grumpy at being locked up, reluctantly helped Giles and Tara prepare spells she thought might at least slow their adversaries if it came down to a fight. The Winchesters noticed that the elder witch didn't have the same wariness around Tara that she'd had around Willow. In fact, a few times the woman displayed outright contempt for the quiet young woman. When Sam made to put an end to it, Tara shook her head. She would bear any indignation if it meant getting Willow back.

Dawn was appointed snack master (which explained why they left with more candy bars than food) while Buffy fixed a spaghetti dinner to be eaten before they left. Spike and Dean tuned up the BMW, the Impala, and the Buick that the vampire had taken a liking to. The two worked with the music cranked far enough up to stymie conversation.

Anya, Xander, and Sam stocked weapons and ammo. Sam noticed the younger man was abnormally grim, his mouth set in a thin line as he cleaned out pistols and counted ammo. To cover up his silence, Anya held a mostly one sided conversation about anything and everything. This included missing California, interesting pages from the Kama Sutra, her hair color, and whether or not blueberries or blackberries were tastier. Sam tried to keep up and failed.

Eventually the cars were packed, dinner had been eaten, and Castiel had returned. A satchel with the spell ingredients was on his shoulder. Dean went to put it inside the devil's trap jail cell and the seraph followed close behind. "Dude," the hunter said after locking the doors, turning around, and finding Castiel nearly nose-to-nose with him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Avoiding Xander Harris. I'm fairly certain he wants to punch me again."

Dean shrugged and began walking towards the garage. "Yeah, well, kid needs to get over it. If this goes south he's gotta work with _all_ of us if we're going to survive. Oh, and hey, no zapping over there by yourself," he demanded as they descended the stairs. "Need you in my car."

"Why?"

"You get to babysit Rowena."

Castiel sighed.

* * *

The trip was uneventful other than a memorable pit stop where Dawn vomited spectacularly onto the cement. She played it off as candy overindulgence, unwilling to voice the growing terror she felt with every mile. Several times during the drive the girl had been tempted to just blurt out what she had done, but just couldn't drum up the courage to speak the first word.

The three cars parked just outside of Stull Cemetery's wrought iron gate and their occupants, armed with guns and angel blades, headed for the interior. Rowena balked at picking her way through the dirt in her heels and gown until Castiel shoved her, hard. He still resented having an "attack dog" spell cast on him, particularly because it had inadvertently caused an angelic sister's death.

With the moon out and clear skies the place was illuminated rather well. Still, Sam and Dean swept the area with their flashlights just in case. Dean's froze over a circular area. While other areas in the graveyard showed bits of green grass and small, weedy flowers, this spot remained permanently yellow. The only plants that managed to push out from the soil were stunted and barbed. Gently, Sam put his hand on his brother's shoulder and the two of them shared a moment of silent commiseration.

"So where _is_ the blighted devil?" Spike asked loudly as he lit up a cigarette.

In his ear, a familiar female voice whispered, "Boo."

The vampire started and swiveled around. Lucifer's smirk was set unnaturally onto Willow's lips while Crowley and Glory were standing nonchalantly nearby. Spike backed away while muttering, "Bloody hell."

"It really is," Lucifer sighed as the Winchesters and the Sunnydale residents cautiously approached. "So! Doggy here says you need me for a spell."

"Does Rover want to elaborate?" called Sam.

"We need his– _her_ blood," Crowley answered, irked at the new cognomen. "That would require a _bit_ of cooperation on her part."

"Could just beat you down," Dean growled at Lucifer, "pick the blood off our knives."

"Pff, please," the archangel snorted. She waved a hand and the humans (and vampire) found themselves smashed face first into the ground.

"Ow," Xander uttered. "Worms. Mouth."

"Willow!" Tara cried.

"Oh don't start this up again," Lucifer said, annoyed. Then, mockingly, she wailed, " _Willow! Cass!_ "

"If you kill us," growled Castiel, "you will never be able to contact our Father."

"We've each got half a spell," added Giles, "and I'm betting none of you know where we've hidden ours."

Crowley and Rowena exchanged brief glances. Of course they knew, but both of them relished the secret. If they revealed the location, Lucifer and Glory would no doubt kill all of them and then plunder the Men of Letter's Bunker at their leisure. Better to wait until one or both of the parties were obliterated and then they could plunder at _their_ leisure. After eliminating their mother/son of course.

The archangel gave an exasperated huff of breath and released her hold. "Fine. I've got something you want, you've got something we want. Fair trade."

While brushing detritus from her front, Buffy stated firmly, "She's not getting her Key."

Surprisingly, Glory smiled broadly. "Oh, the Slayer is just so _cute_ when she's stupid!"

Buffy glared. "Stupid about what?"

Crowley snapped his fingers and Dawn let out a stifled shriek. She hurriedly pulled up a sleeve to reveal a set of blood-red letters etched into her skin. Buffy, alarmed, noticed that the sight made Sam pale and caused Dean to angrily shout, "When the hell did you do that?"

"What?" the Slayer demanded, panicked as she grabbed her sister's wrist and peered at the words. "What did he do?"

"Your dear sister made a deal," explained Crowley. "While we were on top of that… eccentric tower."

"What kind of deal?" Buffy snarled.

"Standard, mostly. Ten years for getting her off that platform before the hellhounds come to collect."

"And then?"

"She goes to Hell," a shaken Dean said quietly. Desperate, the hunter latched onto the one thing Crowley said that might give them a reprieve. "What do you mean 'mostly'?"

"Oh!" the demon exclaimed, affecting surprise. "Back of her neck, that's the proviso."

Buffy and Dean both lifted Dawn's hair. It was in some incomprehensible language. Furious, the hunter called, "Translate this, you dick!"

"'Should the client decide to revert to her natural state and be utilized as was initially dictated at creation, the client's soul, should it be preserved, will afterwards no longer be the property of the contractor and will then be handed off to its original designation.'"

Both Buffy and Dean stared, blinked, and jointly said, "What?"

"If Dawn goes back to being the Key," Sam responded, breathless with horror, "she'll go to Heaven instead of Hell."

"But only if she's used to open the dimensional portals," Giles added, just as shaken. "And only if she actually _has_ a soul."

Dawn turned around, tears streaming down her face. "I'm so sorry, Buffy. I'm so, so sorry."


	38. Part III: Chapter 38

8/12/2016 - I hit writer's block on this one and ended up writing a chapter of my next fic instead. That sort of got the gears finally going and, well, here it is!

Not much to say, but if anyone could look at the other fic's first chapter I'd be grateful. Trying out a new literary format and I'm not sure if it's working.

Thank you so much **xxRomanceGirlxx** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **demon19027** , and Mystery Guest for the reviews! And hello to the people in the balcony favoriting and following!

* * *

The group ended up telling Lucifer and Glory that they needed time. The Hellgod's eyes had glowed mutinously, but when the archangel snapped her fingers and locked Crowley in a collar and chain her mood had brightened. Lucifer tossed the leash to Glory, who immediately yanked hard and cut off the demon's objections. The two parties clarified how they would communicate before the inhuman trio disappeared.

A somber group headed back to the Bunker, mostly in silence. As soon as they arrived, Giles made a quiet request and they crowded around the library tables. Buffy couldn't bring herself to sit and paced back and forth. "Okay solutions, people, solutions." She focused on Anya and then at Rowena.

The ex-demon shook her head and Rowena sighed. "Near on four hundred years I've b'n a witch. Never heard of someone gettin' out of a demon deal, no matter how powerful they were. I'm sorry, dearie, I've got nothing."

"When someone spoke their wish I _had_ to fulfill it," added Anya, "no matter who died or what other consequences there may have been. Buffy, one wish started the Russian Revolution of 1905. When the wishmaker begged it to be reversed there was nothing I could do. When demons of any sort go about crafting these things, they take thousands of years to insure that they're airtight."

"There's only one way I've seen," Dean answered. "It took the King of Hell to do it."

"Which is more likely the reason why Lucifer took Crowley away," Giles surmised, "rather than just to give him over to appease Glory. Poor fellow."

"Trust me, whatever that dick gets he deserves it."

"I'm sorry," Sam gently said to Buffy, "if there was another way we would have figured it out already."

"How do you know?" she asked. "Maybe with Giles and Tara and Rowena and even the rest of us, Anya even, maybe we'll find something you missed."

The Winchesters glanced at one another. "Our dad made a deal, remember?" Sam said carefully.

"That's not good enough. You didn't even know he did it so you didn't have a chance to prepare."

After a few moments of tense silence, Sam said to his brother, "You want me to do it?"

"I'll tell her," Dean answered with a sigh. "Buffy, _I_ made a deal."

An astonished Giles uttered, "What?"

"For Sammy. He'd been stabbed in the back, died in my arms." Dean was looking off into the distance, not focusing on anyone or anything in particular, while Sam had his eyes closed and one hand over his mouth, stricken by the memory. "Found a crossroads, made a deal. She resurrected him, gave me only a year."

"We looked everywhere," Sam said softly. "A small something, anything. Only thing we found was that the contract was being held by Lillith, the first demon, the _most powerful_ demon."

"And then?" Buffy demanded.

"She came to collect personally," continued Dean. "I went to Hell."

"Th-That's good, isn't it?" Tara commented. "I mean, you're here now."

"It took a garrison of my brothers and sisters to rescue Dean from the Pit," Castiel countered. "Many of them died."

"You're useless, you know that?" Xander snapped. The seraph looked down and away.

Abruptly, Dean was on his feet. He stalked over to where the young man was sitting and hauled him up by the back of his shirt. After slamming Xander against the bookcase, the hunter snarled, "All right, asshole, this crap stops now. Cass might have screwed up royally when he released Lucifer, but your friend had to be _willing_ to take the guy in. That means Lucifer asked and Willow said _yes_. And the only reason that the dickbag could slip out was because _I_ let out the Darkness."

"Oh, yes, let's shift the blame for that one now," inserted Rowena, irritated.

Dean let go of Xander while he told the witch, "Shut up." He looked back at the young man. "You're angry, I get it. But that ain't helping anything. So keep it to yourself until this is done, got it?"

Xander considered, for a moment, punching Dean. Then he realized that, unlike Castiel, the hunter probably wouldn't hesitate to beat him into the ground. "Fine," Xander finally grumbled.

"Good." Dean gave him a friendly smack on the shoulder (which hurt enough that Xander was thankful for his decision) and returned to his chair. He and the seraph surreptitiously exchanged a look of thanks.

However, after that there came silence. No one had any ideas, and the Winchesters' story had dampened their mood. In the stillness, a small voice asked, "What happened in Hell?"

"What?" Dean replied.

Dawn gazed sorrowfully at him. "What happened to you in Hell?"

"Dawn, no," Buffy urged at the same time that Giles opinionated, "I really don't think you should–"

The Slayer's little sister held up a hand and the two of them hushed. "Please, Dean."

"Now?" asked the astonished hunter. Dawn nodded. "Don't you wanna, you know, do it in private or something?" She shook her head.

The elder Winchester looked about and found seven pairs of eyes fixated on him in a sort of macabre anticipation. The eighth, Sam, had leaned forward into his hand again and the ninth, Castiel, had his eyes upwards as if beseeching his absentee Father. "Damnit," Dean muttered. "Look. They're going to hurt you. A lot. So much you're going to wish you could die all over again just to make them quit."

Buffy's hand was on her mouth and her eyes were filling with tears. Dean continued, "Then at the end of the day, they're going to tell you that it can all stop. You just have to pick up the knife and start doing it to someone else."

"Why?" asked Xander.

"Because enough time doing that in Hell and you lose your humanity," Castiel explained, "and your soul becomes a demon."

"How much time?" whispered Dawn.

"I don't know," Dean responded. "Time don't move right down there. I thought I was gone forty years, Sammy told me it was just a couple of months." He wiped a hand down his face. "I… I held out for thirty. Spent the last ten doing what they asked. But I ain't a demon." He looked pointedly at Rowena.

"Aye, that's what happened to Fergus," she affirmed. "Doubt he held out nearly as long knowing my boy."

"Okay," Dawn said quietly. "Thank you." She stood, slowly, and looked at everyone. "We're going to tell Glory she can have her Key."

"No!" cried Buffy as she ran to her sister and grabbed her by the shoulders. "We're going to find another way! We-We-We will get Crowley, make him cancel the contract–"

"Then how will you get Lucifer's blood?"

"I don't know! We have time, right?" Frantically Buffy swept her tear blinded eyes around, trying to find reassurance and found only bleakness. "Something… Something in-in-in storage, we can get… use…"

"We finished cataloguing everything," Anya stated gently. "There wasn't anything."

"I'm sorry, Buff'," added a sorrowful Xander.

Dawn wrapped her arms around her big sister in a heartbreaking role reversal of who comforted whom. How many times had Buffy held her and told her it was going to be all right? How often was it that Dawn had laid her worries on her sister, letting the Slayer absorb the pain so the girl could move forward? "It'll be okay," murmured the younger Summers through Buffy's sobs. "I get to go to Heaven, remember? I'll be happy and you guys will get to be safe."

Giles cleared his throat. "I think it would be best if we went to sleep. Perhaps the morning will lend itself to some fresh ideas."

With the screech of chair against floor they stood. The Sunnydale expats all gently hugged, patted, or otherwise did their best to comfort both Summers. After an acknowledging nod from Dawn, Dean gently extricated the inconsolable Buffy and did his best to lead her away. Soon the only ones left were Dawn, Sam, and Castiel. The young girl looked at the angel. "Don't you need to sleep?"

"No."

"Dawn," Sam said, "you're taking this a lot calmer than I would have thought."

The girl opened her mouth confidently and then snapped it shut. Her lip quivered and tears began tracking down her cheeks. "I'm not," she managed to gasp as she used her sleeves to wipe her tears. "I'm _terrified_. I just needed to be strong for Buffy." Her face scrunched and she whispered hoarsely, "Sam, I'm so scared!"

Sam knelt down in front of her chair and gathered her in his arms. Dawn wept and wailed her fear, muffling them in his shirt so that the sounds wouldn't carry. Castiel walked over and crouched behind the hunter. "Dawn?"

Momentarily stifling her cries, the girl looked up at the seraph. He smiled. "Would you like me to tell you about Heaven?"

She gave a small nod and a brief smile of her own before sitting back in her chair. "I'm going to head to bed," said Sam, "unless you want me to stay?"

"I'll be okay," came Dawn's watery answer.

"I will watch over her," reassured Castiel.

Sam gave the girl a fatherly kiss on the top of her head and began heading for his room. Then he stopped and turned around, suddenly baffled. "Hey, have either of you seen Spike?"

The others shook their heads. "Not since we arrived," replied Castiel.

"Huh. Wonder where he's gotten to."

* * *

"Yo."

Rowena started as she closed the door to her room. She'd wandered about with the intention of rifling through that storage room of theirs, but the ex-demon and her angry boyfriend were busy fornicating inside. When she spotted Sam approaching she nixed the idea completely. Most ordinary men were of no consequence to the witch, but these Winchesters made her cautious.

Which was why a stranger's voice coming from her bed had her as jumpy as a squirrel. "It's very rude to be entering a woman's boudoir without her permission," Rowena chided.

"Whatever," scoffed Spike. "I need a spot of help, love."

"Oh?"

"You're some old powerful witch, yeah? All jacked up on magic and all that?"

Rowena crossed her arms. "I suppose."

"Good. You got a spell in there to contact that Amara?"

Interesting request. "Perhaps. Why?"

The vampire stood up and started pacing. "Need to talk to her, is all."

"Since it looks like I'm doing all the work, I dinnae see a whit of motivation for me."

Spike stood still and gave her a smirk. "How about gettin' that tosspot, Dean, out of both our lives?"

Rowena lifted an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really now?"

"Darkness got some sort of loony affection for the git. Figure we tell'er he's ready to shag and off he goes."

"And you know this how…?"

"Overheard him and the Slayer having a bit of a heart to heart. Said it himself."

Rowena contemplated the offer silently. This could work quite well to her advantage. Surely Amara no longer looked at her with favor after discovering her canoodling with Fergus and the Winchesters. Delivering her the boy would certainly change the Darkness' opinion. Prepping Lucifer's dear aunt for the slaughter would do to get in _his_ good graces as well. It wasn't quite as appealing as it had been after the archangel had gone and broken her neck, but it was always good to have a backup. Yes, this could work nicely. "All right, lad. I'm at your disposal. But not until we contact this so-called God of theirs."

"What? Why the holdup?"

"Call it what you want; delay, preparation, my own petty revenge for centuries of Scottish persecution by the English. I am not contacting the Darkness until we have a sort of backup if she becomes less than amenable to our ideas."

Spike resumed pacing. "So the nibblet agreed to the offer, then?"

"You mean the Key in the form of that wee lass? Aye."

The vampire sighed. If she didn't know any better, Rowena would have said he was sad for the girl. "Right, then," he finally said, "once God's holy arse is about we do it, yeah?"

"Certainly. I'm figuring you have an idea on how to get the Winchester and the Darkness together? Without his _brother_ discovering the trick? The taller one might look like a sad little pup but he's the one with the brains between them."

"Don't worry, I'll figure it out."

"Then we have an accord," Rowena stated as she held out her hand. Spike gave it a vigorous shake.

One way or another, the witch would be on the winning side. A little revenge on top was just the cherry on the pie.

* * *

Dean brought Buffy to his room, just hoping to calm her down. Instead, the young woman collapsed on his bed, curled into a ball, and continued crying. Unused to feminine hysteria, the hunter made do with a bottle of Jim Beam. He poured a generous glass, urged the Slayer to a sitting position, and plunked the cup into her hand. She quaffed the entire thing in one go and then had a coughing fit. Dean poured another and she downed that one too. Buffy tore through a few more hiccuping sobs before the alcohol did its work.

"We can't let her do it." she stated.

"I don't think this is the right time to be talking about this."

"Make time," Buffy growled.

Irritated, Dean took a large gulp of his own straight from the bottle before throwing his arms out. "What do you want me to say? Girl made a deal and there ain't going back on it unless we somehow get ahold of Crowley. I had to frigging fly to Scotland and dig up the bastard's bones to make him do it last time. I _hate_ flying." The hunter took another swig before saying, "Face it. You don't let her do this now, in ten years Hellhounds come to collect and she's going straight to the Pit."

Buffy drew her legs up and hugged her knees. She remembered Crowley's nightmarish illusion, the one where Dawn had been one of his black eyed demons, relishing the torture she inflicted. Now it seemed that the road led unerringly towards that destination, with the only possible alternative route being to undo her little sister's very existence. "Ten years is a long time," she pondered. "Maybe we can find something."

Dean shook his head. "Like what? No hunter knows. Men of Letters had nothing."

They were silent, the hunter's frequent gulps the only sound. "God," Buffy finally murmured.

Dean finished out the bottle. "Yeah, it sucks."

"No, stupid. God! We're summoning Him, right? And he's… God! He can change whatever he wants."

Recalling that angels hadn't exactly fit the biblical myth, Dean wasn't certain that who they summoned would fit the profile. "Can't hurt to ask."

Buffy nodded, her hopes hinged to the amiability of the omnipotent. She reached over and grabbed the now empty whiskey bottle and tossed it across the room. Intent on banishing her worries with an energetic distraction, the Slayer tapped into her strength to pull Dean to her and kissed him.

Their lovemaking wasn't as gentle or loving as before. Buffy left scratches on his back with her nails and gouges with her prosthetic. The pain only urged him on. Dean indulged her want for dominance, allowing her to ride him hard before switching back, gripping her wrists and driving into her an intensity that sent them both soaring. It was rough, it was quick, and it was just what Buffy needed to temporarily shelve her anger and her fear.

She clutched his back, mindful of the injuries she'd inflicted. He turned them on their sides, the both of them breathing hard. Buffy tucked her head under Dean's chin and indulged in a few more hitched, quiet sobs. After a few minutes of tears, she was asleep, and Dean, mentally and physically exhausted, followed soon afterwards.

* * *

Glorificus was in the middle of pulling Crowley's tongue out with tongs when Lucifer strode in. She made a disapproving noise. "Pliers have better grip, you know." The archangel picked a pair up from the table next to the rack.

With a terrific yank, the Hellgod ripped the demon's tongue out. "Eh, I'm a sucker for retro." Crowley gurgled out a scream then glared murderously at the two women. The extracted muscle was tossed into the roaring fireplace as Glory argued, "It's not your turn yet."

"Oh, no no no, take your time." Lucifer held up Crowley's cell phone. "The Watcher called. Deal is on!"

The two indulged in a few girlish giggles and squeals that made the demon roll his eyes. "When?" Glory asked excitedly.

"Morning after next."

The Hellgod picked up a serrated saw and sighed. "Oh, I can't wait to go home! You can make the alignment happen for sure, right?"

"Of course, don't worry about a thing."

As Glory pondered which limb to start on, she said, "You really need to come visit sometime. You can totally stay in my place!"

"For sure. Soon as we settle up with daddy and auntie I'll be free. In the meantime, I'll let some of those whiny demons tell me how to fix their troubles. You'd think they had no minds of their own."

"Have fun!" called the Hellgod as she positioned the blade on Crowley's ankle.

"You too!" Lucifer replied as the demon began to howl.


	39. Part III: Chapter 39

8/17/2016 - I feel bad that I'm neglecting my other fics but this one is really almost done and I want to chug along to the end! I'm thinking as few as three and at most five before we hit the conclusion.

I've been confused lately about whether to use "Cas" or "Cass." I switched over to the latter because the subtitles on the show did it that way but now I'm not so sure…

Thank you **demon19027** , **willdawg992003** (who is the first person so far to be critical of LuciWillow), **thedarkpokemaster** , and it **sammyc21** for the reviews! And all those favoriting and following, I give you a circle of applause!

* * *

"Gah!"

Dean jumped up out of the kitchen chair, swearing. His brother stood out of the way, empty Johnnie Walker bottle in one hand, and lectured, "You're the idiot that didn't take care of these right away."

"Didn't know how freaking bad they were," Dean responded, as he sat back down.

"Dude, she used metal fingers to rip lines in your back."

"Yeah, well, not like that was what I was thinking about at the time!"

Sam, as carefully as he could, wiped Dean's back dry. "How is she anyways?"

The elder Winchester shrugged as his brother handed him a roll of bandages. "Was still sleeping when I got up. Figured she could use the rest."

"Yeah. Hey, have you seen Cass?"

"Not since last night."

A puzzled Giles entered the kitchen asking, "Have either of you seen Dawn?" The Winchesters shook their heads.

"Cass was still talking to her when I went to bed," Sam said. "Maybe the two of them went somewhere."

"Well, if she's left the Bunker then I suppose he's the safest one to be with." The Watcher took out his phone. "But just in case," he murmured as he dialed.

Dean put his shirt on as someone picked up on the other line. "Dawn," said Giles impatiently, "where are you? What? _China?_ "

"China?" Sam repeated incredulously.

"Oh. All right then. Well, be careful." The elder man shook his head and ended the call. "Apparently Castiel is taking her around to places that she's always wanted to see. They're at the Great Wall right now. Their next destination will be Disneyworld."

Sam sniggered and Dean smiled slightly but they were both recalling the same thing; Dean's self-indulgent, suicidal weeks after making his own demon deal. To cover their maudlin remembrances, the elder Winchester complained, "How come you didn't take _me_ to Disneyworld?"

His brother glared. "Because you weren't a fourteen year old girl."

"Disneyworld?" asked Xander. The remaining Sunnydale residents had apparently awoken en masse and we're now drifting in for breakfast. Tara dove into the refrigerator and began handing out yogurts.

"Cass is taking Dawn on a world tour," Sam explained as he opened his breakfast.

"Aw, no fair!" Anya whined. "I haven't seen Disneyworld since the eighties."

Dean tossed his plastic cup of milky goop to Sam and asked, "The hell were you doing there?"

"You really don't want to know. Just never date anyone who dresses up as Minnie. Trust me."

They chattered amicably, and after a few minutes Dean excused himself and headed back to his room. There he found Buffy shimmying into her pants. "Hey," he greeted.

"Hey yourself," she responded. The Slayer walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She tilted her head up and complained, "You're too tall."

"No, you're too short."

Buffy gave Dean a playful slap on the back which, to her surprise, made him twitch and wince. "Uh oh. I _did_ scratch you up, didn't I? I found icky pieces of ick on my new fingers." She released her hold and wiggled the metal digits. "Have you seen Dawn?"

Dean explained where Buffy's sister had gone and the Slayer sat back down on the bed with a sigh. "I kept waking up last night, thinking. I just… I just hate the fact that we fought so hard to keep Dawn away from Glory and here we are handing her over."

Dean sat next to her. "Buffy, either it's Heaven now or Hell later. There's no good choices here for us, just gotta do what's best for her."

"I know. It doesn't mean I have to like it." She used her fleshed palm to wipe away a few tears. "Okay, I think I'm done with the crying. I'm over it. Well, not really, but I can't think of anything else to do."

Dean sighed. "I'm just… really sorry, Buffy."

"Yeah, well, just one more crappy passenger on the train that is my life."

As she headed out of the room, Dean followed, saying, "Don't think any of our lives have been puppies and rainbows."

* * *

Dawn was on the ground covered in Golden Retrievers and did not mind one whit. "Do you think Buffy would mind if I brought one back?" she giggled.

Castiel was crouching in order to be face to face with the puppies' mother. Occasionally the dog would bark happily then lick him on the face. "The mother does not want to give her babies to humans yet."

"Aww."

"I believe that Dean does not like dogs either. It would be prudent to understand this if he and your sister would like to continue copulating."

"Ew, Cass!" Dawn cried as she cradled a puppy. "I knew, but… Ew! Besides, Sam is much better looking."

"I don't think I'm qualified to make the distinction."

The adult dog barked in the seraph's face a final time and gave him a few more licks. Castiel reciprocated with some scratches behind the ears before she began trotting home, her puppies yipping and tumbling about as they followed. Dawn stood and brushed grass from the back of her pants. "I'm glad you found this rescue place. I always wanted a puppy. I guess… I guess I never will have one."

Castiel looked at her, doing his best to see through the tendrils of green energy to the sad little girl underneath. The only human of her age that he had really ever interacted with was his vessel's daughter, Claire Novak, and she was atypical of a teenager (or so Sheriff Mills had said). Apparently they were supposed to be going to school and talking about boys; not learning to handle a knife and dealing with their impending deaths.

One of the puppies had gamboled back towards Dawn and was pawing her ankle. She gathered her up in her arms and hid tears in her fur. "Will it hurt?" she asked quietly.

"I don't think so."

The girl sniffled a little and the pup licked her nose. "Will you come visit me in my heaven?"

"I am not allowed in Heaven," he said gently. "I have committed too many transgressions. But if that were to ever change, I promise to come."

Dawn put the puppy down and hugged the angel. "Thank you."

Awkwardly, Castiel returned the gesture. The baby dog was gnawing on one of his shoes. He made an impulsive decision and hoped his friend would forgive him.

* * *

"What is that?" Dean asked slowly.

A little ball of golden fluff yipped happily at everyone from Dawn's arms. She beamed and held it up. "This is Muffins!"

Castiel stated, "It's a dog."

"I know it's a fricking dog!" Dean replied irritably. While all the women rushed over and made happy noises over the puppy, he demanded, "Why is there a dog in my house?"

"Because I spoke to her mother, Poppy, and she was willing to let Muffins come home with us. Don't worry, we've already established rules about where to urinate and defecate."

Dean gaped at the seraph before throwing his hands up in exasperation. When he spotted Sam cuddling the thing, he gave up. There was no way his brother was going to let him toss the fuzzball out now. "That thing better not stink the place up."

"Dawn has said she will make Buffy promise to bathe Muffins regularly."

Brought back to their dilemma, Dean sighed. "What're we doing, man? Sacrificing a kid so we can get on Lucifer's good side? Tell me that don't sound wrong."

"We alone cannot defeat Lucifer and Glory together, much less Amara. And if we do not defeat her, the world will be consumed." Castiel pulled Dean back into the library while the others were laughing at Rowena. Muffins had apparently taken a liking to her and she was doing her best to act haughty in the face of the adorable puppy. "I saw some signs while we were traveling," he said quietly. "The entire populace of Hope Springs, Idaho went mad and killed each other after a fog settled over their town."

"That black-vein disease, like in Nebraska," Dean surmised.

The seraph nodded. "The Darkness is continuing to pollute God's creation. What if the next place she decides to spread her disease is a larger metropolis? New York? Beijing? If we do not act soon, it will be too late."

"Hey," Sam called as he approached. "We're going to take Muffins outside so she gets used to the area. Wanna come?"

Castiel told the brothers he would go get dog supplies before following the others. When Sam cocked an eyebrow at him, Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'm coming. She better not piss on me."

* * *

Spike smoked while the others were cavorting with the four legged puffball. The thing had taken an immediate liking to everyone, including Crowley's mum, except for him. Muffins had growled menacingly when he tried to approach, then ran off crying when Spike gave her a monstrous growl of his own. Stupid chip might prevent him from hurting humans but it didn't protect loud, yellow cotton balls.

He'd staked a spot under a copse of trees; far enough from the stupid dog that it wouldn't smell him and go ballistic but close enough to be able to see everything that was going on. It was disgusting, the sweetness of the scene. Luckily, Rowena had felt the same, giving them an excuse to be closeted together within the green.

"Had me a dog once," Spike remarked.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Blood had a li'l gamey taste to it." He took in a long drag. "I'm thinkin' we do our thing tomorrow night."

"After God's b'n summoned and it's dark enough for you to be walking around. Aye, that sounds good. What's the message you'll be wanting to send?"

Spike handed over a scrap of paper with his Victorian script upon it. Rowena read it over, folded it, and placed it down the cleavage of her gown. "And have ye figured out yet how you're to get the Winchester boy out here?"

Not really, but she didn't need to know that. "Don't worry, love. Got it all planned."

"Excellent. I'll prepare for midnight. Always an auspicious hour."

Spike narrowed his eyes as he watched Buffy hold Muffins up for Dean to meet. When he leaned in to check out the pup, the Slayer whipped it away and gave him a resounding kiss on the lips. The others began to howl and whistle while the hunter stood there, stunned. Buffy wore a smirk.

Spike ground his teeth together and lit another cigarette. Tomorrow night couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

Buffy spent the night with Dawn and Muffins per the girl's request, which left a very flustered Dean to try to get to sleep on his own. It was near impossible with so many thoughts running through his head. A beer would help.

As the hunter was popping the top off, Giles strode into the kitchen. "Might we talk?" the Watcher asked.

"Sure," Dean replied. "Beer?"

"No thank you." Giles sat across from him and adjusted his glasses. "It appears that Buffy has become very fond of you."

"Yeah? And I remember you yelling your frigging head off when you found out I kissed her."

"Yes, well, I honestly don't approve, but it isn't in me to deny something that makes her so happy." Giles sighed. "She may need you in the days to come."

The elder man was obviously referring to Buffy's imminent loss of a second family member. "Yeah, I know."

The Watcher stood up and headed to the refrigerator. He walked back to the table with a beer. When Dean lifted his eyebrows at him, he said, "Changed my mind."

"Okay."

As he wrenched off the cap, Giles said, "I suppose she told you about Angel."

"Yup." The hunter inwardly swore that if he ever met the son of a bitch he'd punch the fangs off of his stupid vampire face. "Sounds like a major douchebag."

"Eh, quite so. Sometimes. Then you'll understand if I ask what your plans are in respect to Buffy?"

"Plans? What plans?"

Giles chugged a good amount of beer down before gazing intently at Dean. "As in the future, after all of this has been taken care of. You realize she is still the Slayer."

"Yeah, so?"

"She has duties that she must attend to."

"Wasn't there some other chick she mentioned?" Dean thumped his bottle a bit against the table as he tried to remember. "Something about her being in jail?"

The Watcher's face darkened. "Faith. Yes. I believe she's in San Quentin serving twenty five to life."

"So? Bust her out and let _her_ deal with the Hellmouth crap, let Buffy do what she wants instead. You can't tell me she hasn't earned it."

"That isn't such a good idea."

"What for? Can't be that hard."

Giles gave an abbreviated explanation of Faith Lehane and her downfall. From what Dean could tell, the girl had a rough upbringing and an even rougher time after she had been called to be the Slayer. He could relate a little to her tale; being used by those more powerful for their own ends and ending up damaged because of it. "Apparently Faith is thriving in prison," added Giles, "if only because there is a measure of stability in her life now."

"So Buffy's stuck and screwed."

"I'm sorry, Dean."

The thought of Buffy being inaccessible was surprisingly painful, but Dean wasn't about to air his feelings, particularly in front of someone who had already voiced a resounding disapproval of him. Instead, the hunter shrugged and finished off his beer. "Amara's probably going to end the world within the week. I'm not sweatin' over a future that might not even happen."

Gile sighed and shook his head. "I cannot countenance–"

"Dude," interrupted Dean, "we've gotta deal with Lucifer and freaking Glory tomorrow. Dawn's probably going to be dead by tomorrow _night_. So let's shelve this until after all that crap's done, okay?"

The Watcher nodded slowly. "Very well."

Dean stood up and tossed his empty bottle away. "Later, Jeeves," he called as he headed to his room.

Giles sat in his chair a while longer before finishing off his own beer. He had been gratefully reinstated as an official Watcher and had been granted the resources and salary that went along with the position, but he had also resumed the responsibilities. The Slayer had to go where she was needed, and after this crises had been averted that place would most likely be back to the Hellmouth.

Well, like the hunter had said, all of this speculation would be moot if the Darkness prevailed. Giles put his bottle into the trash and headed for his bed. Everything was hinging on the validity and success of that spell. Better to be well rested in order to deal with any fallout.

* * *

They were meeting back in the dilapidated church where their attempt to extradite Lucifer from Castiel had failed. As the building had been tiny to begin with, and was now even tinier after it was semi-demolished, only the four who were in any way magically proficient went in: Lucifer/Willow, Anya, Giles, and Rowena. Everyone else was left to stew with one another just outside the door.

Dawn, as the bargaining chip, had voluntarily stayed at the Bunker with Muffins and Spike for company. If the Hellgod had decided to grab her Key prematurely it would have been disastrous. Crowley was also mysteriously absent, although after seeing the knowing smirk on Glory's face the reason became apparent; she couldn't risk the possibility of the demon being coerced into reversing his deal.

The spell required the ingredients to be combined together in a single bowl to be burned. Despite their holy origins, the mixture looked like a hodgepodge of dirt, rocks, and hair, with a vial of blood poured on top. Giles' lips thinned; he would have to ask Crowley exactly how the demon had obtained that last item.

Casting it was a little more difficult. The incantation was in Latin and Enochian, and the only ones who could speak the latter fluently were Castiel and Lucifer. As the spell required a single conduit for the magic, the seraph was reluctantly brought in, and, despite Dean's profanity-laden objections, Glory followed.

"What?" she asked when they stared at her, nonplussed. "I'm not standing out there in the sun with all the _humans_."

"Well if you're going to be in here then you're going to help," Giles stated firmly. "If I remember correctly, you conjured a rather effective Sobekian transmogrification back in Sunnydale."

"Fine," the Hellgod pouted.

The ritual needed to hit its finale at noon, reflecting the epitome of light in contradiction to the Darkness. As the time was nigh, the (now five) magic wielders knelt in a wide circle around Castiel. He began reading the incantation, switching fluidly from language to language. The syllables flowed and the ground trembled, much to the dismay of those who waited outdoors. Upon the final word, at the exact moment the sun had reached its apex, the angel tossed a lighted set of matches into the bowl of ingredients.

An explosion of white light erupted from the conflagration causing all those inside the church to be blinded and deafened. The brightness burst from the windows and knocked those that were outside to the ground.

By the time the humans had regained their feet and the others inside their hearing and sight, enough time had passed to reflect the failure of the spell. "Seriously?" cried Buffy.

The magic wielders and Castiel staggered outside. Rowena coughed out a mouthful of dust and remarked, "Well that was a tremendous waste of time."

From the far rear of the group, a stranger said, "Oh I wouldn't say that. I heard you just fine."

They all turned towards the voice. An average sized man dressed in jeans, Converse, and a hooded jacket waved briefly. His bearded features were pleasant but ordinary, and his short, curly hair looked as if it were in need of a trim. All in all there was nothing extraordinary about him save several of the group's reactions.

Glory stepped away, for once unwilling to challenge someone's power.

Castiel was in awe, his mouth agape.

Lucifer glowered furiously, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides.

And the Winchesters were baffled. "Chuck?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Hey guys," God said.


	40. Part III: Chapter 40

8/19/2016 - Started watching Vampire Diaries and considered what a Supernatural crossover would look like. Then I realized that the Winchesters would probably just kill the Salvatores and then the whole thing would be over.

 **Note** : A few lines of dialogue are taken from the episodes _All in the Family_ (SPN 11x21) and _We Happy Few_ (SPN 11x22).

Thank you **willdawg992003** , **thedarkpokemaster** , and **deadly embrace** for the reviews! And whattup followers and favoriters!

* * *

"Why are you all staring at me like that?" Chuck queried, taken aback.

"Because you're dead?" Sam answered.

"Excuse me," said Giles, "but who is this?"

"His name's Chuck Shurley," replied Dean. "He's a Prophet of the Lord. Next Prophet got called so we figured he was dead." He turned his attention to the bearded newcomer. "Where the hell have you been?"

"That's what _I_ would like to know," snarled Lucifer. " _Father_."

Xander started laughing, but slowly let it go as no one else joined him. "Oh, come on! No one else sees the funny? _This_ is God? This is a hobo."

"Hey!" objected Chuck. "I am not a hobo! I might have drank a few before I got here, but–"

"Prove it," snapped Buffy, her arms crossed.

"What?"

"I said–"

"–prove it," the Slayer finished as they were all suddenly inside the foyer of the Bunker. This surprisingly included Lucifer and Glory. Immediately the others withdrew blades and cocked guns. In response, the archangel gathered a ball of lightning between her hands and the Hellgod's eyes began to gleam with anticipation.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Chuck shouted. The weaponry was abruptly gone and Lucifer and Glory lost their energies.

"Hey!" complained the Hellgod.

"I cut them off for now," Chuck explained to Dean, whose face reflected a growing fury. "In fact, I've cut _all_ of you off for now. At least while you're inside this place."

As both Rowena and Lucifer were muttering incantations and then curses as the spells fizzled out, Dawn and Spike, preceded by a yapping Muffins, came running in from the kitchen. "What's going on?" demanded the vampire. When he spotted Glory, he shoved the girl behind him.

"Who's that?" Dawn asked as she reached around Spike's legs to grab the snarling puppy.

"Oh, hello!" Chuck called nonchalantly. "I'm God."

"Yeah, I'm still not buying it," Buffy scoffed.

With his lips thinned in irritation, Chuck snapped his fingers and the Slayer yelped. When everyone looked, they saw her staring, stunned, at her restored flesh and blood hand. "Wha… Wha… Ow!" she yelled as Anya punched her in the shoulder. "I felt that," Buffy said in annoyance. Then, more enthusiastically, she cried, "I felt that!" She headed for Dean, punched _him_ in the shoulder, then proclaimed joyfully, "I felt that too!"

"So did I," the elder Winchester grumbled while rubbing his growing bruise.

"Thank you!" Buffy said tearfully as she wrapped her arms around Chuck's neck. "Thank you thank you thank you! I apologize for all the times I never went to church!"

"Eh, no worries," he responded as he patted her back. "I think it's gotten kind of boring anyways."

"So it really is you," murmured Rowena. The witch approached and genuflected, her eyes on him in adoration. "Please. Forgive me for, you know, everything I've ever done in my life."

Chuck lifted his eyebrows as Buffy drew away. "I can tell you don't mean it, but that's okay. I've been quietly rooting against you for some time now, but I can't deny your entertainment value. Oh, that reminds me."

God snapped his fingers again and a bloodied, rumpled Crowley, dressed in a tattered version of his normal finery, was suddenly lying across the map table. "Bloody hell," he coughed out as he looked around, befuddled.

"Great," Dean lamented. "Now everyone's in our frigging home."

"Well, that's sort of what I wanted," explained Chuck. "You see, I have a plan that to deal with my sister but it's going to take all of you."

"I'm out," Lucifer immediately announced. She began heading for the bedroom hallway.

"Hold up," Sam said as he grabbed her arm. "What do you think you're doing?"

The archangel yanked her arm out of the hunter's grip. "I'm not working with _him_ ," she replied brusquely, "so long as he hasn't given me what I'm owed." Lucifer glared at her father. "Screw you. Screw _all_ of you." She swept one final glower around the room before walking away.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Anya broke it by daring to ask, "So what does she want?"

Chuck sighed. "An apology."

"For?"

"A million birthdays missed, imprisoning him in a Cage and abandoning him, stuff like that."

Giles cautiously approached, "Um, sir? Or-or-or your holiness? My Lord…?"

"Chuck is just fine."

"Very well, Chuck. Amara has said that it took you and four of your most powerful sons to capture her the last time. I would think the last archangel would be of paramount importance this time too."

"Well, there's Michael, but he's more Anakin right after he was flash fried than Darth Vader right now."

"I understood that reference," Castiel remarked triumphantly.

"Thank you, my son," Chuck responded flatly.

"Well I'm bored!" Glory declared. "I'd like my Key now so I can be on my way." Immediately Muffins began to growl again, her head reaching out from Dawn's arms.

"I'm sorry, but not right now," said God.

"What?"

"Not just yet, Glorificus. I need you to be patient."

The Hellgod began to storm towards Chuck. "Oh hell n–" The others watched, with no small sense of satisfaction, as Glory toppled like a marionette and ended up splayed awkwardly onto the floor. Dawn put down Muffins who trotted forward, set her teeth into the Hellgod's dress, and began to yank viciously.

God shrugged. "I… don't like her very much."

"No one does," agreed Dawn.

Chuck turned to Sam. "Glory has just enough of Hell in her that the demon cell you have down the hall will keep her. I'd suggest using that chair of yours too." The hunter nodded before nudging Muffins away to cradle the Hellgod in his arms. He headed for the requisite room.

Giles opened his mouth intending to inquire about the nature of hell dimensions, but God cut him off. "I promise, all of you can ask your questions later. Anyone want a sandwich? I'm starved." After getting a few affirmations, Chuck headed for the kitchen accompanied by most of the bewildered group. Crowley was begrudgingly shouldered by Spike and Rowena who hauled the demon to his mother's room. Only Dean and Buffy remained.

"What's wrong?" asked the Slayer. She waggled her new fingers at him. "Look! No more metal stabby things."

"Chuck was God all this time," Dean answered through clenched teeth. "Do you know how much crap we've been through since we last saw him? And he just, what, sat around and watched?"

"I'm sure he had his reasons."

"Yeah, well, they better be damn good ones for all the things he's let slide for the past… forever."

Buffy sighed, then brightened. "Hey, you got sharpies in here anywhere?"

"Probably, why?"

With a wicked grin, the Slayer explained, "Chuck just knocked Glory out for who knows how long. Wanna see how much stuff we can draw on her before she wakes up?"

Cheered by the prospect, Dean smirked then hurried off to find the pens. There was much God had to answer for, but in the meantime some petty revenge would suffice.

* * *

"Willo–Lucifer!" Tara called as she banged on her bedroom door. "Come on, at least let me get some clothes!"

Through the girl power rock, Lucifer shouted, "No! Go away!"

Sam approached as Tara resumed ramming her fist against the wood. "What's up?" he asked.

"Lucifer locked herself in my room and won't come out," the witch huffed.

The younger Winchester did his own knocking and yelled, "You're going to have to come out eventually to talk to… you know… God!"

From inside came, "Dad wants to tell me something he can come get me himself!"

The pair on the outside glanced at each other, exasperated. "I'll go get your mom!" Tara attempted.

"Don't got one!"

Tara shrugged. "It was worth a try," she told Sam. Then, back at the door, she shouted, "Where am I supposed to sleep?"

"Ask Mr. High and Mighty. I'm sure he's got _all_ the answers."

Sam gave the door handle one final, jarring rattle before shrugging at the witch. "Guess we're going to have to get them to talk."

* * *

"I can't say I'm sorry if I'm not," Chuck said around a mouthful of BLT. "It'd just be hypocritical. Besides, just give him time. He'll come around."

Giles squeezed the bridge of his nose, annoyed. "I'm afraid the luxury of time just isn't something we have," cautioned the Watcher.

"Isn't Lucifer a 'she' right now?" Anya inserted.

"Technically," replied God, "the archangels were androgynous. Time went along and they just gravitated towards male for their own reasons. They weren't exactly the nurturing type anyways."

"So we're just sort of hiding out until Lucifer stops being a brat?" asked Xander. "She didn't change in the last million years, why would she do it now?"

"Because he wants the same thing we all do: Amara gone. Lucifer might loathe humanity, but he has a measure of affection for his angelic brothers and sisters and doesn't want to see them wiped out."

Sam came rushing in a moment later, his laptop open. "Guys, Amara got another one," he said grimly. Everyone crowded around the table as the hunter put the computer down and hit the space bar.

"We have breaking news at this hour on the most recent freak weather event," stated the perky newscaster. "State police are now confirming that a mysterious toxic fog engulfed the town of Lewis, Oklahoma, late last night. Reports have also stated that there were mass fatalities. Descriptions of the event are identical to those of the fog that overwhelmed another town in the days–"

The sound cut as Giles slapped the laptop closed. He leaned over to peer at Chuck. "We are officially out of time," he lectured. "It is imperative you reconcile with your son. Now." The Watcher moved back as he suddenly realized who he was speaking to. "Your holiness," he tacked on belatedly.

God squirmed then looked plaintively at Sam and Giles. "Only if you guys go with me," he quietly requested.

* * *

Buffy clapped her hands over her mouth as she tried to stifle her mirth. "Oh my God."

Dean clamped his teeth down on most of his own laughter and concentrated on the elaborate genitalia he was drawing on Glory's face.

* * *

Lucifer leaned against her headboard, arms crossed. "Tell me again why those two are here?"

Giles removed his glasses to clean them and explained, "Apparently we are experts on overbearing fathers. Present company excepted of course."

"I think we're here to mediate," said Sam.

Quiet descended. The Watcher cleared his throat. "Um, Chuck? Was there something you wanted to say?"

God twiddled his thumbs a bit. "I am… sorry? That you feel that I betrayed you," he continued as he leaned back in his chair and looked more comfortable. "That I acted without cause. I'm sorry that you can't see you gave me no choice." Chuck gave Giles and Sam a satisfied smile. "I'm good."

"Seriously?" said Lucifer incredulously.

"Not much of an apology," Sam added.

"Yes," agreed Giles. "Perhaps more of an explanation is in order."

Chuck shot out of his seat and threw his hands up. "I did what I had to do! To create the world, I had to lock Amara away. And when the Mark corrupted you, and I saw you posed a threat to humankind, I did the same with you."

"Oh there we go," Lucifer scoffed. "You _created_ the Mark and you _knew_ what it would do to me! Then went things started to suck, you had me locked away so that your failure of a son wouldn't be in your face all the time."

"That's not… _exactly_ right."

"Then what is it? Why did you do it? How could you just _lock me away?_ " The archangel's eyes glimmered with unshed tears. Sam and Giles exchanged astonished looks.

Chuck let loose an enormous sigh and sat on the edge of the bed. "I know about your bid with the angels, that you want to become the 'New God.' Tell me, then: what would _you_ have done?"

"That's not the point!" Lucifer shouted. "You kept saying you loved me, that you loved everyone equally, and yet you couldn't forgive me for what I had done!" She threw a pillow at God's head, the tears finally spilling. "I _hate_ you!"

"I know you don't meant that," Chuck responded quietly.

Sam handed Lucifer a box of tissues as she sobbed into a spare cushion. Giles was busy gesticulating, trying to get Chuck to continue. He got a helpless look in return, but the Watcher's expression was relentless.

Finally, God folded his hands and drew in a deep breath. With his head down, he murmured, "Lucifer, it's not you I couldn't forgive. It was myself."

"What?" she asked through a weepy hiccup.

"I was supposed to love all creation equally. I wasn't supposed to have favorites. But you… you were mine. I gave you the Mark because I loved you the _most_ , because I thought you were strong enough to bear it."

"Really?"

Chuck nodded. "And when I saw that I was wrong," he said, his voice trembling with emotion, "when I watched my choice devour my most cherished son, I hated _myself_ , and so I punished you." God turned around and looked Lucifer in the eyes. "Son, I am so sorry."

After several moments of standoff, Lucifer nodded in gratitude. They embraced, the archangel burying her head in her father's shoulder, while Sam and Giles sighed in relief. When they finally drew away from one another, Chuck appeared distraught. "What's wrong?" asked Sam.

"Well, um," God looked apologetically at his son. "I don't think that Willow wants to be your vessel anymore. She's getting a little frantic in there. Plus, I'm just getting really confused with the pronouns between everyone."

Lucifer cocked an eyebrow at Sam who growled, "Not a chance."

"It's okay, son," Chuck told the archangel. "I've got a solution."

* * *

Tara and Dawn were making small talk over cocoa when Muffins started making happy little yips. The younger girl turned about to see a weary Willow hanging on the doorframe. She gave a little wave and said, "Hi guys."

"Willow!" Tara cried as she rushed over to wrap her arms around her girlfriend.

Dawn gave a little shriek of her own and joined in the hug. "It's really you!" the girl proclaimed. "We missed you so much!"

Between kissing Willow all over her face, Tara said, "Never, ever, _ever_ do something like that again. Promise?"

Willow gently kissed her lover back. "I promise. Trust me, I learned my lesson."

"But how?"

"You'll see. Hey, where is everyone?"

Dawn gave a rambling explanation. "Dean and Buffy came back smelling like Sharpie so everyone asked what they had been doing and they said they were decorating Glory." She took a breath and concluded, "Xander and Anya had to go do some art of their own."

Willow grabbed each of their hands and tugged them along. "Well, come on, us too! Better hurry before all the space is gone."

The three girls jogged down the hall, giggling, then screeched to a stop when they came upon Chuck speaking to a tall blonde man with sad blue eyes. The stranger turned his head towards the trio and gave them a measured look. Willow stared defiantly back and greeted him with, "Lucifer."

"Willow," the archangel responded, once again housed in the form of Nick Andrews.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Lucifer's original temp vessel, Nick (Mark Pellegrino), doesn't seem to have a last name listed anywhere. I just picked one that I liked the sound of.

Also, the conversation between God and Lucifer in the actual episode was calmer, but seeing as how he's occupying a twenty year old girl and not a thirty something/gazillion year old man/angel, I thought things would go a little different.


	41. Part III: Chapter 41

8/22/2016 - Not much to say this update. Been suffering from headaches so if there are some weird nonsensical things in this chapter I blame that :D

 **Note** : A few lines of dialogue are taken from the episodes _All in the Family_ (SPN 11x21) and _We Happy Few_ (SPN 11x22).

Thank you **thedarkpokemaster** and **willdawg992003** for the reviews! Grateful for the criticism from **CrystalCipher**! Wonder where my mystery guests have gone? And xxRomanceGirlxx? And Jennee77? I miss you :*

* * *

Seeing Lucifer as they'd first known him troubled the Sam greatly. He couldn't help recalling all the harrowing times he'd spent conversing, hallucinating, and being tortured by the figure before him. As soon as he coulda , the younger Winchester excused himself from the library. He returned with a bottle of Jack Daniels and set to drinking.

"Poor Sam," Lucifer murmured with, obviously fake, sympathy.

"Shut up," Dean snarled. He then asked Chuck, "You couldn't have picked a different person?"

"Well, the only other definitively useful vessel for Lucifer was Sam, and–"

"I said there was no way in hell," continued the vessel in question.

"Yeah, okay," said Dean. "Exactly how did you do this? Last we saw this dude was a rotting corpse in Detroit."

"It's kind of similar to how I kept rebuilding Castiel," God answered. The named seraph shifted uncomfortably. "The vessel's original soul has been gone for a long time, but the flesh and blood can be recreated to house the celestial being. I fortified it this time so, um… so Nick doesn't fall apart again."

Dean lifted his eyebrows. "So why don't you just remake Gabriel and Raphael? Then we wouldn't need Hellbitch and one of you could gank her ass."

Chuck shook his head. "They're the stuff of primordial creation. Rebuilding them would take time we don't have."

"So I'm assuming you have a plan?" Giles asked.

"Well, um," Chuck vacillated. "You're not going to like it."

"I don't know about anyone else," said Xander, "but I haven't liked a single thing about _any_ of this."

God sighed. "We can't kill her."

"What?" Buffy asked. "Why?"

"She is a part of me and I am a part of her. The universe is in balance between us. If one of us dies, the scales tip too far one way or the other and then everything descends into nothingness."

"So we need to lock her up again?" tried Dean.

Lucifer laughed contemptuously. "Aunt Amara was locked up long before I was," he said. "I was cast down when I corrupted mankind. You apes have walked the Earth for millions of years. We imprisoned the Darkness nearer to the beginning of creation: _billions_ of years ago." The archangel looked at Chuck. "What makes you think you're just going to be able to do it again?"

"I don't," God responded. "We're going to lock _me_ up."

A chorus of objections and astonished exclamations followed. Chuck lifted his hand for quiet. "Lucifer is right. Amara was jailed for long enough. If we can convince her not to destroy everything then I think it should be her turn to exist."

"And she gets that revenge she's been on about," Sam inferred. Dean noticed his brother's words were already slurring and snatched the whiskey bottle. "Hey!"

The elder Winchester took a swig and commented, "That's a big freaking 'if,' Chuck."

"Why don't we just kill the both of them?" offered Spike. When everyone stared, he added, "Charles here said that the universe was in balance between them. Seems to me if they're _both_ gone then things are even, just in a different sort of way."

"That's stupid," snapped Buffy.

"No," God murmured, "it's… a possibility." The stares shifted focus. "He's not wrong. I mean, the problem is whether the scales tip too far one way or the other, not whether or not we're still in the picture."

The Slayer sighed. "This is the same conversation we had about Dawn. We are not killing someone good just to make sure things go our way."

"Have you tried reconciliation?" suggested Giles.

"What do you mean?" asked Chuck.

"Well, you and your son have cleared the air. Why is it so far fetched to think that you wouldn't be able to do so with your sister?"

"Worth a shot," Sam said with a shrug.

"I… I don't know," Chuck replied doubtfully. "If she doesn't listen or it doesn't work then we're screwed."

"We need a backup then."

Dean scoffed, "What kind of backup are we supposed to have against something stronger than _God?_ "

"There are factions that may still aid us," inserted Castiel. "We could appeal to the angels. If they knew our father was back they may be willing to assist."

"Crowley could see to Hell," said Sam.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. " _I'll_ see to Hell. Doggy's still recuperating from his discipline."

"I could contact the extra-dimensional demons," Anya added. "Still have friends even if I'm not one of them anymore."

"I'll do for the Watcher's Council," said Giles.

"I suppose I could look up a witch or two," Rowena sighed.

"See?" Buffy said to Chuck. "We've got you covered."

God gave a tremulous smile. "All right then. Let me know when everyone's ready."

The group dispersed to establish their various connections. Willow and Tara adjourned to their room to make up for time spent apart. Sam and Xander took orders for food from the local diner then borrowed the Impala to run the errand. Everyone assumed Spike was chain smoking in a hidey hole somewhere.

Chuck remained in the library deep in thought. An intimidated Dawn crept up followed closely by Buffy and Dean. "Sir?" the girl asked.

"Hi Dawn," he greeted with a small smile. The geniality gave way to sorrow as God said, "I know what you want to ask, but I can't."

"You can't?" Buffy asked angrily. "Or you _won't_?"

"Both." Seeing the furious expressions on the faces of both the Slayer and her paramour, God sighed. "Look, I was hands-on, _real_ hands-on for, wow, ages. I was so sure if I kept stepping in, the humans, these beautiful creatures that I created, would grow up. I answered prayers, punished the wicked, tested the worthy, all that good stuff. But it all just stayed the same."

"Does this have a point?" Dean demanded.

"What I'm trying to say is that I left mankind to its own devices so that it could find its way; make its own choices, act upon free will. Dawn," Chuck said gently as he looked at the young girl, "you weren't manipulated, you weren't forced to make your choice. You did it all on your own."

"How can you say that?" cried Buffy. "She would have died up on that tower if she hadn't taken Crowley's deal! How can you call that not being manipulated or forced?"

"She alone had a decision to make. A more selfish person would have let the ritual go through and then hoped for the best. Your sister took advantage of Crowley's presence to try to save you all."

"So what would I have done if Crowley hadn't been there?" Dawn wondered quietly.

God shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe Spike would have saved you. Maybe Glory would have had another lackey do her dirty work. Maybe Buffy would have died instead."

"Wait, what?" inserted the Slayer.

Chuck looked at her. "The monks crafted Dawn out of you: your blood, your soul. If the ritual had begun one of you would have had to given their life to end it, and I know for certain you would have never let your little sister sacrifice herself."

"So I do have a soul," Dawn commented.

"Of course you do," said God with a smile. "And you'll go to Heaven, just as was promised. Buffy, Dean," he asked, glancing at them, "could I speak to her alone for a bit? I swear that you guys can come find me later and ask anything you want."

Frowning deeply, the Slayer gave her sister a reassuring hug while Dean settled for patting the girl gently on the shoulder. Once they were gone, Dawn sat in the chair next to Chuck. "Is it going to hurt?" she whispered. "Is that what you didn't want them to hear?"

"No, it won't hurt," he replied, shaking his head. "For you, it'll be one second you're here and the next you'll be in Heaven. But for them it'll be very painful, which is why I wanted to ask you something."

"Sure."

"There was a part of the spell the monks cast when you were made that I can undo. Before I do that, however, I want to make sure you'll be all right with it."

Dawn listened as God explained the consequences of her undoing and what would happen if the monk's spell was reversed. After a few tears she acquiesced, with the stipulation that no one was to be told beforehand.

"Just make sure Muffins gets taken care of, all right?" the girl requested.

"I promise."

* * *

"Yeah, those dimensions were sort of like, failed experiments," said Chuck.

Giles adjusted his glasses. "Really?"

"Well, I mean there's Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. Those are sort of like other dimensions. But before that there was some noodling around. Accidentally created one that had nothing but shrimp." God ran his hand through his hair. "Amara even helped out… at first anyways. A couple of the nastier ones have her influence in them. Glory's, for example. And Arashmaharr."

Anya sighed wistfully. "Sometimes I miss my pet flying hellworm. Definitely don't miss the paperwork."

"What about the Key?" the Watcher inquired.

"Couple of those interdimensional demons made it. Wanted to be able to visit each other, I think, but they kinda lost the instruction book. That's why when it gets used it opens everything and not just one specific door."

"But of course you know how to use it properly."

"Yup."

* * *

"So when do I get to go home?" Glory whined. She stomped her foot into the Bunker's cement floor and created a small crater.

"Remember what I said," admonished Chuck. "Start acting up and I make those pen marks into tattoos. I particularly liked the message Willow left on your forehead."

Glory's eye twitched. She had a measure of gratitude to this so-called God for removing the massive amount of perverse graffiti she'd found on her body as well as for freeing her from that cell, and she wasn't about to put his threat to the test. Those traitorous other Hellgods would probably die laughing if she showed up decorated in crude drawings of human genitalia.

"What about the Key?" Glorificus queried with a touch of deference.

"Everything's been settled. Just… don't go trying to take off prematurely, okay? It's really not hard to find you."

"Ugh, fine," the Hellgod groaned. "You think they got any good chocolate in this place?"

* * *

"We ready?" Spike asked quietly.

"In a bit, dearie," Rowena replied. "Can't a mother take a wee bit to gloat over her son's humiliation?"

"I hate you," Crowley snarled from the bed. "And what the bloody hell are you two plotting now?"

"That's for me to know," Spike snarked, "and for you to never find out, mate."

"Bollocks," the demon cursed. "You're both going to do something stupid and get us all killed."

* * *

Amara located the surge of energy summoning God a few moments too late. By the time she arrived, the dilapidated monument to her brother's ego was empty, the remnants of the spell giving off a curl of smoke. She incinerated the remainder of the building, frustrated.

Both God and Dean remained illusive. There were wards, very strong ones, keeping them undetectable, but if she could figure out the physical location then the rest would be child's play.

She paced amidst the ash as she dealt with the unfamiliar turmoil. Choosing to take a human vessel was having consequences. These creatures had so much _emotion_ , so many feelings, it was nearly overwhelming. There had been nothing but rage back in her prison, nothing to think about except the injustice that had been done. Here, though, in her brother's creation, the Darkness had felt more than the pull for revenge; awe, desire, and the simple need to be _wanted_.

How terrible it had been to be rejected by the one being in existence that she had loved! The sorrow had nearly undone her, the anger becoming all that sustained her. Eons passed and she remained isolated, trapped. Perhaps she had even become a little mad.

Then Dean Winchester had freed her. Dean, the engineered vessel, the flawed product of her brother's most beloved creations, had destroyed the Mark that had imprisoned her. For bearing that cursed thing she pitied him. For sharing it with her, she loved him. For his betrayal, Amara began to hate him.

Such a little thing she'd thought it was, that human gesture of lips upon lips. But when she'd done it with Dean, her vessel had felt such passion, such physical responses, that it drove from her all other thought. She understood why these creatures strived for such moments. If Dean was one with her, heart and soul, how much _more_ would these feelings be?

And now his thoughts focused on that slip of a thing, that female barely out of girlhood, and Amara couldn't fathom why. Was the Darkness not everything he needed? Did they not desire one another? What was it this Buffy had that made Dean turn away?

"Hello, Amara."

It was the witch, her voice echoing within the Darkness' mind. "How did you find me?"

"Been inside your head once before. Easy enough to find my way back. Got a bit of a proposition for you. Perhaps we could speak in person, you and I?"

"Very well. I'm–"

"–listening," Amara concluded as she appeared in the field where Rowena was standing.

"My dear, I've been told t'offer you yer heart's desire," Rowena said sweetly. "Dean Winchester."

"Oh?"

"Aye. My new friend will bring your bonnie lad here if yer willing to make a deal."

Amara felt something pinging against her subconscious; a quiet throbbing of energy centered not too far away. "I'm listening," the Darkness said as she tried to pinpoint its location.

"There'll be four of us who would like to be a part of yer new world and be safe from the destruction that you intend."

Ah, there. Yes. A heavily warded edifice to the east. "Who?"

"Me, of course. The vampire, William. And the two Summers girls, Buffy and Dawn."

The building was housing something that was straining its containment magic to the breaking point. It would have to be where she went next. Only one other being could by itself emanate that sort of power…

Then Amara realized what names had been stated. "What?" she asked venomously. "Why them?"

Rowena swallowed nervously. "I don't know. It's dear William's idea."

A surge of jealousy sparked the Darkness' rage. Her hand shot out and grasped the witch's neck. "I have a better idea," Amara hissed. "I'll just find out where he is by myself."

Rowena's mouth opened unwillingly and the bright wisp that was her soul floated out and was consumed. Amara wrenched the head off of her erstwhile healer and savored the taste of the woman's strength. All of what the witch knew was now part of the Darkness.

So. Both men Amara sought were holed up in that little sanctuary. There was no need for this William to bring Dean to her, nor was it necessary to continue to draw out God by slaughtering his humans.

All that was left was to make a proper entrance.

* * *

It was a little after midnight when most everyone gathered again in the library. Dawn had been sent to bed (primarily to keep her away from Glorificus), Sam was sleeping off an unintentional hangover, and Willow and Tara were still closeted together. The latter two had emerged for dinner, then when Willow said she was still hungry a sympathetic Castiel had gone on a food run. As far as anyone knew she was still eating her way through a mountain of fruit and hamburgers.

Also curiously absent were Dean, Spike, and Rowena. Buffy rolled her eyes when asked and explained that Spike was trying to lure the hunter outside for one reason or another. She had loaned Dean one of her stakes just in case. As for Rowena, Crowley said she had walked out half an hour before with no word. He drew parallels with his abandonment three hundred years prior and hoped she had fallen into a deep well.

Glory and Xander hung around to observe. That left Lucifer, Anya, Castiel, and Giles to report on their attempts to recruit the various factions to help fight Amara. "D'Hoffryn laughed at me," Anya sulked. "The interdimensional demons think that they're safe and they'll just go home after Amara's done."

"Not true," countered Chuck, "but I guess they'll find out when it all starts falling apart. What about the regular demons?"

"They're _demons_ ," a refreshed Crowley said contemptuously. "Selfish and cowardly the whole bloody lot of them."

"What he said," Lucifer agreed. "I could strong arm them into coming but first chance to cut and run and they'll be gone. I'm assuming you had no luck either, brother," he directed at Castiel.

"Our brothers and sisters refuse to listen," the seraph sighed. "Even so, they merely wait for the end as if it were inevitable."

"Watcher's Council is doing the same," Giles added. "They've come to the conclusion that there is no hope and they refuse to expend themselves making any foolish gestures."

"So we have no backup," Buffy concluded. "It's either let Chuck lock himself up or hope to God, uh, _you_ , that Amara is willing to listen to your apology."

"There is the alternative," Chuck suggested sadly.

"You mean straight up killing the both of you?" the Slayer asked incredulously. "How would we even go about doing that?"

"Well, the opposite of the Darkness is light. Enough of it would destroy her."

"How much light?"

"Oh, I don't know. Ten thousand suns set to supernova?"

"Bloody hell," both Giles and Crowley muttered.

"And you, father?" Lucifer inquired with a smirk. "How would you die?"

Chuck frowned deeply and looked at everyone in turn. "You need to let Amara kill me."

A jumble of denials, exclamations, and derisive laughter erupted after this revelation. God held up a hand for quiet. "She's the only thing more powerful than I am. There's no other way."

"So you want us to let the Darkness kill you," Buffy clarified doubtfully, "and then, what, hope that she's easy to put down afterwards? Weren't you listening? No one wants to help!"

"I'm just saying," Chuck reiterated, "it might come down to that."

Everyone was silent, considering the ramifications of the death of God. Giles began to suggest how Chuck might grovel to his sister when the Bunker began to shake. As they all grabbed on to the nearest stable item for support, Xander shouted, "An earthquake? In _Kansas?_ "

"The wards!" cried Castiel.

Set at precise intervals along the top of the walls were stone squares inscribed with mystical symbols that were normally hidden from natural sight. They were now blazing into view then fading.

Willow and Tara, Sam, and Dawn all came stumbling into the room as the rumbling began to die. The younger Winchester demanded, "What the hell was that?"

"Oh no," Chuck whispered.

The last few wards shattered with a deafening crack. All but God reflexively clamped both eyes and ears shut, huddling down behind furniture if they could. Sam glanced up first from behind the map table and caught sight of the hem of an elegant black gown. "Amara," he gasped.

"Hello, sister," welcomed God.

"Hello, brother," the Darkness responded.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : There's a running joke throughout Buffy and Angel about the World With Nothing But Shrimp. Illyria said it was boring.

 _Arashmaharr_ is the home dimension of D'Hoffryn and the vengeance demons. According to the Buffy Wikia their headquarters had a very office-like environment.

And I totally made up the stuff about the Key. If there are any canon tidbits from the recent comics that might contradict my theory I'd be grateful to find out!


	42. Part III: Chapter 42

8/25/2016 - Okay, I think we're down to one or two more chapters before this whole adventure is concluded and everyone lives happily ever after. Maaaaaaybe.

For Mystery Guest(s): A lot of what you suggested will probably be addressed in my other fic, Paschendale. This one has a definitive ending and I super don't want to take things too far. If you ever make an account I'd be happy to talk with you about all those points you brought up! :D

For **kalani . gapido** : Here's a new chapter for ya! ;)

Much gratitude for **thedarkpokemaster** , **xxRomanceGirlxx** (hi there!), and **willdawg992003** for the reviews! And blown kisses for everyone favoriting and following!

* * *

Dean let Spike lead him half a mile out before he spun the vampire around, grabbed his leather lapels, and slammed him against a tree. The hunter withdrew a Bowie and snarled, "All right. Start talkin'."

"Ease up, mate," Spike said nonchalantly.

"I ain't stupid. You didn't bring me out here at freaking midnight to 'talk things over.' So what's the game?"

When the vampire continued silently sneering, Dean pressed the blade against the creature's neck and made a thin red line. "Well?" he demanded. "Talk!"

Spike leaned into the edge. "Go ahead. You got the stones to tell everyone what you've done?"

The hunter smirked. "Something tells me no one's gonna care."

With the crunch of shifting bones and a feral growl Spike's face shifted into its demonic state. He shoved his assailant away, his vampiric strength sending the hunter flying into the base of another tree's trunk. The back of Dean's skull smacked into bark and the hunter found himself momentarily incapacitated.

After blurting out an obscenity, the vampire recovered from chip-induced pain by shaking his head vigorously. He began to pace. "You know, before you bloody hunters showed up I had a good thing going. Found my place on the Hellmouth. Had myself a chance, a _tiny_ chance with Buffy. Just had to show her that I could be a bloody good man again, someone worthy. I let Glory stick her bleeding fingers in me so I could tell Buffy I did good!" Spike stopped and jabbed his fingers at Dean. "Then you lot come along and my whole bloody world is gone!"

As the hunter staggered to his feet, his expression murderous, Spike continued. "I can't even properly kill you myself because of this bleeding chip. So you're out here so someone else can do it for me, or at least take your sodding nob out of here."

"Yeah?" Dean asked mockingly. He reached slowly into his jacket for Buffy's stake. "Who?"

"Who d'you… wait." Spike sniffed the air, his face returning to its normal appearance. "Blood," he murmured. "A whole lot of it." To Dean's bemusement, the vampire began to walk off. With his hand on the wooden weapon, the hunter followed.

"Bollocks," Spike said as he knelt beside a dark form. Upon closer inspection, it turned out be the headless body of Rowena, her signature gown spattered with arterial spray.

The hunter looked about. He walked off a short distance and found the witch's head, her face frozen in disbelief. Furiously, he marched back to the astonished vampire and demanded, "What did you two do? What the hell were you planning?"

"I don't understand," Spike muttered. "She seemed so sure the girl would listen."

Dean kicked the vampire on the shoulder, knocking him from his crouch and onto his back. " _Who?_ " he shouted, dreading the answer.

"That bloody bint that's so obsessed with your sodding arse," Spike shouted back. " _Amara!_ "

* * *

No one moved. Amara stood on the map table, her eyes locked on her brother, while the rest of them were transfixed by terror or shock. Lucifer recovered first and stepped towards her only to be stopped by his father's hand on his chest. "No, son," Chuck said quietly. "Amara. I want to speak with you."

"Speak?" the Darkness scoffed. "With you? With my _jailer?_ What could you possibly say that would make me less angry at you locking me away for billions of years?"

As if no one else were present, Chuck and Amara regarded one another intensely, absorbing the feeling of being in each other's presence for the first time in untold eons. God held out his hands and pleaded, "That I'm sorry. For everything. But you gave me no choice! The world needed to be born and you wouldn't let me! What else was I going to do?"

"No choice?" Amara laughed. "You had _every_ choice. You _chose_ to make all these mewling creatures to make you large. To make you Lord. It was ego! You wanted to be big! You were tired of being second and needed to be stronger than someone, anyone. So you put me away."

Off to one side, Xander furiously whispered, "Is anyone going to do anything?"

"What do you suggest we do?" Giles responded, annoyed.

"I dunno, hit her over the head with a rock!" Those in the young man's immediate vicinity gave him a withering look. "Hey, at least I'm thinking here rather than just waiting to die."

The mortals tried to confer quietly as Chuck remorsefully said to Amara, "That's true, but it isn't the whole truth. There's a value, a glory in creation that's greater and truer than my pride or my ego. Call it grace, call it _being!_ Whatever it is, it didn't come from my hands. It was there waiting to be born. It just is, as you and I _just were_. Since you've been freed, I know that you've seen it. _Felt it_."

With this revelation, the Darkness took stock of her audience and realized who was missing. "Where is he?"

Baffled, God wondered, "Who?"

"Dean."

"Not here," Sam stated defiantly.

"Then there is nothing present to hold me back."

Realizing her intentions, Lucifer stood in front of his father and reached out with his power. He'd intended to knock Amara from her perch and was chagrined to find that she only stumbled slightly. However, the momentary distraction gave Sam and Buffy the opportunity to tackle her legs and sent all three of them crashing to the floor.

Amara pushed them both off contemptuously, the hunter and Slayer flying off into the library and smashing together into one of the tables. Willow and Tara swiftly ran to one side, intertwined their fingers, and shouted, " _Attenuare!_ "

The Darkness staggered, her mouth open in shock, as the witches' spell drained her of power. Castiel took the opening to wrap his arm around her neck from behind, his eyes shining with holy light as he drew on the fullness of his strength. The lightbulbs and computers sparked in response, their distress growing when Lucifer followed suit. The archangel withdrew an angel blade and stormed towards Amara, his arm lifted in preparation to strike his aunt down as Chuck repeatedly begged for everyone to stop what they were doing.

Weakened, but by no means weak, the Darkness ripped Castiel's arm from her neck and flung the seraph into Lucifer. Both celestial beings lost the hold on their might as they smashed into the map table and shattered the glass. The electronics abruptly stopped complaining.

The Darkness whipped around and found the Hellgod in front of her. "Glorificus," Amara proclaimed with disgust. "So that cesspool of a dimension birthed _you_."

"Sticks and stones!" Glory mocked and threw a punch. She was dumbfounded when Amara caught the incoming fist in her hand and pushed the Hellgod to her knees. With a swift jerk, the Darkness broke Glory's wrist, wringing a scream of pain from the formerly impenetrable creature, and threw her off to one side. The Hellgod collided into the brick underneath the entryway staircase and lay still.

As satisfying as it was to see Glory brought down, the ease at which Amara accomplished the feat made everyone else pause. She locked eyes on her brother again, and Chuck held out his hands. "Amara, no more," he pleaded. "Tell me what you want of me. Do you want me locked away? I'll sit in whatever jail you devise, whatever place you choose, for as long as you want. Just please leave my children alone."

The Darkness reached a hand out and God rose into the air, choking. "Leave them alone?" she repeated incredulously. "Lock you away? _Why?_ So these creatures of yours can hail you as a martyr? No, brother. What I want is for you to see all that you've wrought, all that you love, turned to dust. Then, perhaps, the debt will be repaid."

"Buffy, no!" shouted Giles as the Slayer, armed with a samurai blade that had been on display in the library, leapt for Amara. The Darkness dropped Chuck and wrapped her fingers around Buffy's neck.

As God retched and tried to stand, Amara peered into the eyes of the girl she was strangling. "It's because of you that Dean has changed. I would like to know why."

Chuck hoarsely cried out, "Stop!" as Buffy's mouth opened and the bright light that was her soul was consumed by the Darkness.

* * *

Dean sprinted the entire way back to the Bunker, ignorant of whether or not the vampire followed. When he reached the door he could hear, faintly, the chaos erupting inside. The hunter fumbled for the key just as things became quiet and tore open the door. He reached the balcony landing just as Dawn shrieked her sister's name and the last bit of Buffy's soul disappeared between Amara's lips.

Crying out in denial, the elder Winchester both tripped and ran down the stairs as the Darkness dropped Buffy's limp form. Heedless of her anger or her power, Dean shoved Amara away and cradled the Slayer in his arms. With tears in his eyes he looked up and whispered, "What did you do?"

He was taken aback by the horrified expression on Amara's face. Something was wrong, terribly wrong with the Darkness. Her hand involuntarily lifted to her mouth as she stuttered, "Wh-Who is… What is… Her soul is…"

"She is the Slayer," Giles stated, stifling his fury and sorrow as much as he could. "You have not only consumed her, but the fragments of thousands of her predecessors."

As her panic grew, the Darkness' fingers tangled in her hair. "What is this…? _Zhè shì shuí…? Pochemo eto proiskhodit?_ "

"Her soul has mystical properties," Anya answered from behind one of the computers. "Better for you to stick your fingers down your throat and vomit that back up right now."

Chuck took a few hesitant steps forward, his hand reaching out in concern, and Amara flinched away. She looked down at Dean, stricken, then back at her brother. A moment later she was gone.

Giles knelt down next to his Slayer's prone form. "Dean," he said gently, "we should put her in bed for now."

Sam limped forward cradling a bleeding elbow. "Chuck," he asked, "can you make sure Buffy stays asleep until we can figure out how to fix this?"

"Uh, yeah sure. Definitely," God answered.

"Why?" asked Giles.

As Dean stood, Buffy cradled in his arms, he said harshly, "Because she's going to wake up a sociopath."

"Last thing we need is her and her super powered self running around with no conscience," Sam added.

"Can't you just remake her soul?" the Watcher pleaded.

Chuck shook his head. "It-It doesn't work that way. Her soul is made up of everything she ever experienced. All I could do is insert sort of like a blank template. She'd have to start learning how to _be_ all over again."

"I'll take her," Giles offered as he saw how undone the elder Winchester was becoming. Dean carefully gave the Slayer's body over.

"I'm sorry."

Dean turned on his heel to stare at the forgotten vampire. Spike was standing on the bottom step of the staircase looking dismayed. He appeared genuinely miserable as he watched Giles carry away the woman he purported to love. Dawn brought up the question on most of their minds by saying, "Sorry for what?"

"You _stupid_ son of a _BITCH!_ " Dean roared as he rushed over to Spike and smashed his fist into the vampire's face. " _You_ summoned Amara here and _now look WHO PAID FOR IT!_ "

Though the others reflexively moved to stop the violence, Dean's declaration changed their minds. No one decided to prevent him from pummeling the vampire bloody. However, when the hunter drew the stake from his jacket, a loud clamor of objections erupted and Sam and Xander lunged towards him. Everything halted when Dean rammed the wooden implement into Spike's heart.

The vampire's final expression was of confusion and regret. Then, after over a hundred years of wreaking havoc and terror, William the Bloody disintegrated into ash.

* * *

An hour later, Sam found himself in the kitchen leaning his head into his hand while he stared at the half full bottle of whiskey on the table.

Dean had hurled the stake into the pile of detritus that had once been the vampire before shoving his way past the stunned crowd. On his way to his room, he had bellowed wordlessly as he kicked over one of the library tables, swept books from another onto the floor, and toppled a bookcase with one hand. They had all breathed a sigh of relief when a door slammed shut down the hallway.

Only Dawn had looked sadly at what remained of Spike. Xander summed up the rest of their feelings by proclaiming, "Bastard got what he deserved."

As Sam reluctantly helped Glory to her feet, Xander and Anya aided Castiel. The looks exchanged by the young man and the seraph said that their previous animosity had been forgotten. Crowley, who had prudently been hiding underneath the stairs, aided an irritated Lucifer. The archangel then asked Chuck, "So what now?"

God had shrugged. "I don't know."

They were at an impasse. Amara couldn't be found, warded as she was, and she had proven that no one in the Bunker was strong enough to defeat her. Their saving grace was that Buffy's soul had damaged her somehow, but it was impossible to say exactly how.

Thus, Sam decided to temporarily drown his issues in drink, a methodology for comfort normally hailed by his brother. There would be time later to deal, but for right now it felt better to be numb.

Chuck joined him a few moments after his next shot. He grabbed the bottle and a shotglass that had appeared out of nowhere and downed a swallow. "Ah, that's good stuff," he declared with a sigh.

"How's Buffy?" asked Sam.

"Sleeping." Chuck poured another one. "I know when you were soulless you didn't, or couldn't, sleep so I had to sort of just shut her body down."

Worried, Sam inquired, "Will she die?"

"Oh, not so long as either me or my sons are around. If we can get the soul away from Amara then she'll be good as new."

They each poured another drink and quaffed it. "What happened with Buffy's soul anyways?" Sam wondered.

"I have no idea," Chuck said. "When they made the first Slayer it was really something brand new. Totally innovative for the time. Humans are really amazing, you know? Immortals like us, eventually we kinda get bored and we stagnate." He took another shot. "Sometimes I pitied those poor girls. I mean, necessary evil and all of that, but a lot of them had it really rough."

"Okay? And?"

God shrugged. "Nobody's done the same since. I think when they those mystics did their thing they altered the nature of the Slayer's soul."

"So when Amara ate hers, it wasn't like when she ate Len's, it was like…" Sam paused, trying to figure an analogy.

"Probably like getting slipped a psychedelic mushroom in your shiitakes," finished Chuck.

"You mean she's out there having a _bad trip?_ "

"I assume so. Except she's not hallucinating tie dye frogs. She's probably stuck reliving a thousand Slayer lives."

* * *

 _She was chained to the floor, the demon's essence swirling about her, as the old men chanted. None of her screams brought reprieve. When the demon enveloped her, she was torn apart and made anew and the strength she was imbued warred with madness._

Amara clutched her head as she stared at a wall of blue morning glories. She couldn't gain control of the visions and her stomach roiled. No human soul had done this to her, no angel's Grace had ever crippled her, and for all her omnipotence she was at a loss of what to do.

 _The smoke was suffocating her, the smell of her hair and clothing burning nauseated her, and the pain, oh the pain, of the flames licking her feet! She had saved this town from Saint Just and they were thanking her with death! Then she saw the eyes of her Watcher and they foretold the others' doom. As an agonizing death took her she was grateful that she would at least be avenged._

Typical human barbarism. Betrayal from those who should be grateful. None of this was new to the Darkness; she was the first, after all, to taste such treachery.

 _The damn vampire had been eating his way through the late night subway lines for days now and she finally had him in her grasp. Punk-ass blonde, eyes limned in black. Her Watcher had told her stories of this one: William the Bloody. Spike. They fought furiously as the lights flickered. It was as if all her training had built up to this one, impossibly difficult battle. Then she found herself pinned and the vampire's hands were on either side of her head. Before he snapped her neck, she thought of Robin and wished she could have told him goodbye._

A son. The Slayer didn't mourn her own death, she mourned the sorrow that the boy would have to endure. Amara closed her eyes and gasped. _This_ heartache she remembered well, how being locked away took her from the one being she loved. Why could he not see what he had ripped away from her? How could he have been so pitiless?

 _The portal in Acathla's mouth swirled ominously and she gaped in horror. There was no other decision to be made. Her heart shattered as she gave him one last kiss goodbye. When she plunged the blade into him, he looked so lost, so broken, that she wanted to dive into the maelstrom with him. Then he was gone, the portal was shut, and she was left with nothing but her tears._

What was this? Not the love of a mother for her son, or a student for her teacher, or even a sister for her brother. This was another sort of love, a love of both joy and agony, of passion and despair.

 _He was shouting at her, furious, the taste of him still on her lips. His life had been a horrorshow of death, so much of it on his shoulders. He had braved so much, and yet he was a coward, too afraid of the unknown. what use did she have for someone who couldn't even try? The cemetery grass flew under her feet as she ran away, tears blurring her vision._

A new man. Amara's eyes snapped open. Dean. She was seeing Dean through the girl's eyes.

 _They were entwined between her sheets, his hands and tongue somehow knowing exactly where to go to make her writhe in pleasure. Death loomed only a few hours away and yet she wanted this to last forever._

They had coupled, Dean and this Buffy. The lingering sensations burned Amara's cheeks.

 _She was listening to the brothers speak about her and realized suddenly that despite how angry he had been about her past he loved her. This was not a man who would bring roses and whisper sweet nothings, and yet she knew he loved her just the same._

Amara's eyes filled with tears. She heard Dean's words echo, how his life would be destroyed if something happened to the girl. And now the Darkness had left Buffy a soulless husk, essentially making all his nightmares come true.

Amara had wanted to know what it was in this girl that had broken her hold on Dean, and she _still_ wasn't certain. However, it was evident that what the Darkness and the hunter had once felt because of the Mark was but a pitiful imitation of what she had just seen through Buffy's eyes.

The Darkness let the tears take their path down her cheeks. She had been so envious of this thing that had taken her brother's attention away, so certain that it was just _hubris_ that made him light that first spark of creation. Now she saw how much _wonder_ was contained in these beings, how complete they were in their joy, their sorrow, their love, their despair. Their lives were _beautiful_.

And she had destroyed one of them.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Please don't crucify me for kicking Buffy in the nuts again. It's Supernatural. You know that nothing good lasts forever.

Amara is speaking in Chinese and Russian. She asks: "Who is this?" and "What is happening?" It's courtesy of Google Translate so I'm honestly not really certain of how accurate they are. If someone out there is a native speaker and has corrections I'm all ears!

The Slayers mentioned I gleaned from the Wikia. The first is Sineya (good ol' mummy woman), the second is a medieval Slayer without a name that apparently shows up in the _Tales of the Slayers_ one-shot comics, and the third is Principal Wood's mommy.


	43. Part III: Chapter 43

8/30/2016 I had so many plot holes in the first draft of this thing. Stupid holes getting all holey in my story.

I'm sorry for not responding to all reviewers sooner this time around! Real life is being a bitch right now.

Anyways, thank you **demon19027** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **Scaramou** , **deadly embrace** , and **willdawg992003** for the reviews! And thank you **Wlyman2009** for making me really think about the whole Dean/Buffy trope o_o All of you favoriting and following, don't be strangers! Just be strange.

* * *

After the kitchen discussion, Sam hesitantly knocked on his brother's door. "Hey," he ventured. "Are you okay?"

Dean was sitting on the chair opposite his bed, his elbows on his knees. He was staring at nothing. When Sam quietly called his name, he leaned back and said, "Rowena's dead. Body's about half mile to the east. Better get it before the sun goes up."

"That's it? That's all you're going to say?"

"Yep."

"Don't you want to–"

"Sam," Dean said tiredly, "just get the hell out."

The younger Winchester lifted his hands in surrender and exited the room. He hoped that Dean wouldn't do anything stupid, but it was _Dean_ , and the possibility was far too likely.

Courtesy dictated that they let Crowley know about his mother's demise, and after a short search Sam found the demon relaxing in the library. The tables and books that Dean had violently strewn about had been righted by a snap of Chuck's fingers. If it wasn't for the fact that there was an archangel with his feet up sitting across from the deposed King of Hell everything would have looked rather normal.

Sam was surprised at how amicably the two were chatting. Lucifer even chuckled a bit at something Crowley said. When the hunter approached, the archangel brightened at the sight of his former vessel. "Sam," he called, "could you clean up the vampire dust? It's a little macabre to be sitting around."

The hunter ignored him and focused on the demon. Reflexively he formed an empathetic way to relate the news about Rowena; then he remembered who he was talking to. "Your mom's dead."

"Huh," said Crowley. For a moment it almost appeared as if he was actually affected. Then the demon shrugged. "Oh well."

"Nice," Sam commented flatly. "I could use some help getting her body."

"I'll come," volunteered Lucifer. By the sinister delight in his eyes it was obvious he wasn't being charitable.

The hunter couldn't imagine what sort of torments the archangel had in store and wasn't about to find out. "Forget it. I'll do it myself."

" _I'll_ come," Willow announced as she came bouncing in from the hallway. She rolled her eyes at the lazy immortals.

"Have fun," Lucifer said with a smirk and a wave.

"Toodles," added Crowley.

After exiting the Bunker, the witch and the hunter trekked through the dark, the former with a small ball of conjured light and the latter with a traditional flashlight. "How you feeling?" Sam asked after several minutes of searching.

"Eh," Willow answered blithely. "I really can't believe those guys don't eat. My poor tummy!" She let loose a delicate burp. "'Scuse me."

Sam chuckled a little. "Yeah. Should have seen Cass' vessel, Jimmy? I think he ate four hamburgers in a row."

Troubled, the witch stopped walking for a moment. "Is Jimmy still in there? When-When me and Crowley went visiting there was just Cass."

Standing still to accommodate her query, Sam sighed and shrugged. "No. Lucifer, while he was riding around in me, obliterated Cass at Stull Cemetery right before we all fell into the Cage. Apparently that's when Jimmy died, like, _really_ died. Far as we know his soul should be in Heaven."

"Poor guy," Willow said sympathetically. They continued on a few more steps until the witch caught her ankle on a large rock and fell face first into the dirt.

Sam ran over to help her up as the ball of enchanted light flickered and vanished. His gorge rose as his flashlight revealed the thing Willow tripped on. She regained her feet without noticing, grumbling and brushing dirt from her clothes, and the hunter ordered, "Don't look."

"Why?" asked the witch as she conjured herself another source of illumination. A quick glance revealed Rowena's messily severed head. Willow's face scrunched up in revulsion and she let loose a series of horrified gasps. She backed away blindly from the gruesome sight and Sam shouted a warning. The witch then fell over the rest of Rowena and let loose a shriek.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Sam called as he rushed over. He knelt down and grasped the panicked young woman's shoulders. "It's okay! It's okay! Willow?" She snapped her eyes towards him, her eyes wide with terror. "Hey, if you want, you can head back. I'll take care of her."

"No," denied Willow, "I'll be okay. Just give me a sec." The witch clambered to her feet and took a few steps away. She bent over and emptied her overly full stomach noisily into the grass. "Okay," she groaned, "I'm okay now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I think I just added to the ick in the area, but I'm good." She heaved in a breath, paused, moaned, "Why did I do that?" and then retched again.

Sam cast his light around as Willow recovered. "Looks like someone went and literally ripped her head off," he observed. "There's blood everywhere." When the witch threw up again he added, "Sorry."

"Ugh," Willow stated. Then, more forcefully, she cast her spell: " _Etvade interrum_." Rowena's mangled head and body was enveloped by weeds and tree roots and dragged down into the earth. A few seconds later, the only signs that anything untoward had occurred were the spattered blood and Willow's vomit.

"That's handy," Sam complimented as he used his foot to brush dirt over the telltale fluids.

"Why is it when Buffy chops the head off a demon and we get spattered in demon goo it's so much less gross than people goo?"

The hunter started leading them back to the Bunker. "I don't know. Most of our monsters bleed red like we do. You kind of get used to it after a while."

"Doesn't sound like a good thing."

"It really isn't. Hey, speaking of Buffy, how's she doing?"

Willow sighed. "I don't know. I tried, like, psychic feely things, you know? And it's like there's nothing really there. How's Dean?"

"Not good."

"Is there anything we can do?"

Sam shook his head. "Not that I know of. Maybe Chuck will figure it out," he sighed, "but if we don't fix this quick I can guarantee you Dean's going to go do something dumb."

* * *

There was no outlet for his rage (save his personal belongings), and because of that Dean had decided to just sit very still.

It was useless to think he could shoot or stab or fry the Darkness in revenge. Even more useless to think there was a miracle cure somewhere that would restore Buffy back to normal. Dean considered and threw away the possibility of a crossroads deal; he wasn't willing to deal with the fallout from that. Again.

He was regretting, just a little, the quick death he'd given Spike. At least torturing the bastard would have passed the time. In an effort to veer away for a moment from Buffy and Amara, Dean spent some time mentally implementing some of the more grotesque techniques Alastair had taught him in the Pit on the dusted vamp. That one bit with the clamps and the needles was really rather ingenious.

When Dean came out of his reverie he realized he'd been focusing on his bed. Traitorous piece of furniture. It still bore a faint wisp of her scent, a few strands of blonde hair, and the memories of two nights spent with Buffy in his arms. He wanted to burn the thing.

He considered asking Chuck to just wake her up. After all, when Sammy had been soulless he had become one of the best hunters ever; ruthless, merciless, and focused. The only problem was any human lives that got in his way became nothing more than collateral, and the eventual repercussions had hit them both hard. Dean still had a hard time swallowing the fact that his little brother had _let_ him be turned by that vamp. He couldn't begin to imagine what sort of terror a Slayer with no conscience and access to a large arsenal of weapons would be able to cause.

Giles said that Amara had taken Buffy's soul because the Darkness wanted to know what it was that had turned Dean away from her. Chalk up another life irrevocably damaged because of him.

But wait. The whole reason for this, as well as the reasoning behind Spike's idiotic plan with Rowena, was because Amara was obsessed with _him_. Well, there was an easy way to solve the issue and make sure no one else got hurt.

* * *

Sam and Willow watched, dumbfounded, as the Impala roared off down the dirt road. They glanced at one another and rushed into the Bunker. "Where the hell is Dean going?" Sam asked furiously.

Lucifer and Crowley had departed the library, probably on the request of the individual that was standing on the walkway between the tables. "He's going to talk to Amara," Chuck answered quietly.

" _What?_ " cried Sam angrily. "Why would you let him?"

God shrugged. "It was his choice." Upon realizing that the hunter was about to explode, he explained, "Look, she's refusing to talk to me. I've been trying ever since she left. She took Buffy's soul to understand _Dean_. Seems to reason he might be our best shot."

"Best shot of what?" wondered Willow.

Chuck sighed. "Of convincing Amara not to destroy the world."

* * *

Dean drove to the Lovewell Reservoir, about an hour from the Bunker. He picked a wooded area that was far enough from civilization to prevent casualties if things went wrong. He exited the Impala just as the early morning sun peeked over the horizon.

The hunter stepped several steps away from his Baby and spread his arms. "Amara!" he shouted. "I'm here! Come and get me! It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I don't know."

The hunter swiveled around at the Darkness' soft voice. She was standing with her arms at her sides, her lustrous brown eyes gazing at him morosely. Dean, however, had no pity. "You don't know?" he said, incensed. "You sucked out Buffy's soul and _you don't know?_ "

"Watch your tone with me," Amara chastised angrily. "I may have-" She cut off, her hands flying to her head as she let out a stifled moan. To Dean's bewilderment, the Darkness folded her knees and huddled down into a small ball onto the dirt.

Despite himself, the hunter reached out and took a few hesitant steps towards her. "Hey, you okay?"

"No!" she cried. "The girl's soul, it's not just one person's! It's thousands upon thousands of them, young girls thrust into lives of blood and chaos." She gasped as she continued, "Their anger over what I have done eats away my thoughts. They want to be gone from me because I am not one of them!"

"So spit it out!" Dean demanded. "Give it back to Buffy!"

"It's not so simple," she rasped. "Her soul has become part of me. If I give it back, I lose a part of myself."

Mercilessly, the hunter uttered, "Fair trade."

Amara's head shot up. "You say this because you love her," she accused, "and I took her away."

The hunter was forced to reign in his temper, knowing a violent, physical response would be futile. He merely watched, fists clenched, as Amara regained her feet, her eyes locked with his the entire time. "I know what it is to love and have it torn away," she said bitterly. "I loved my brother. Once it was only me and him. Then one day he discovered Creation and he used it to fuel his pride. When I objected he locked me away!"

Dean stepped back slightly at the fury and pain radiating from Amara as she continued to speak. "All I could think of in that cell was how I was betrayed so my brother could play with Creation. I wanted out so I could destroy it." She huffed a cynical laugh. "A big sister wanting to smash her brother's new toy."

"You haven't done it yet," Dean realized. "You've had plenty of opportunity. Something changed."

"Yes," Amara agreed as she took the hunter's hand. " _You_ freed me. Not God, not an angel or demon or any other all-powerful being. You, one of the insignificant specks in the universe my brother birthed. It was why I chose your form." The Darkness brought Dean's hand to her cheek and pressed slightly into his callused palm. "It is because of _you_ that I no longer resent Creation, for God used it to create something beautiful."

Dean jerked his hand away. Mournfully Amara reached forward and placed her fingers gently on the sides of his face. "Even your anger is wondrous," she murmured. "Humans and your souls; I thought they were nothing but fodder. Then I consumed _hers_."

"Buffy's," the hunter surmised.

"Yes. The Slayer. The most recent in a long line of warriors who were unwittingly thrust into a world of demons and monsters, and yet never became a demon or a monster themselves. They made me see how they lived, how they fought, how they loved." Amara drew Dean close, heedless of his animosity. Her lips brushed against his. "I thought what we had was love, but it wasn't. _She_ showed me what love truly is." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "My gravest sin was taking it away."

"What do you want from me?" Dean murmured.

"Forgiveness," she begged and kissed him deeply.

Their passion lasted mere seconds, Dean reflexively responding to the faded bond of the Mark, before he drew back quickly. "No," he uttered harshly. "I ain't forgiving _nothing_ until she's brought back."

Amara sighed. "Then we will need to go to my brother."

* * *

Dean's sudden return to the Bunker with Amara in tow caused a general panic to ensue. The elder Winchester stood in front of her at their landing spot in the library and cried out, "Whoa!" to the advancing angels and humans (Crowley, of course, hung back with his hands in his pockets). "Whoa whoa whoa! She's here to fix things, okay?"

"And you believed her?" Lucifer asked incredulously.

"Wards are gone. We ain't all dead."

Castiel gently put his hand on the archangel's shoulder. "If she is truly repentant, then of all our brethren we should be sympathetic, brother." Lucifer rolled his eyes.

"Very well," Giles capitulated. "How do you propose we do this?"

"I need to speak with my brother," answered Amara. "Only he can–" The Darkness cut off with a cry, her hand mashing her forehead in an attempt to stave off the pain. Blood trickled down from one nostril. She crumpled into Dean's arms, moaning.

"What just happened?" Xander wondered.

"It's the Slayer souls," Dean explained. "They keep messing with her mind. We need Chuck here to get 'em out."

"He's doing the whole making Buffy not die thing," Anya said as she pointed down the hallway. "Dawn's with him."

As the only one strong enough (and willing), Castiel hurried forward and cradled Amara's body in his arms. He headed for Buffy's room followed closely by the Winchesters, Crowley, and Lucifer.

Before leaving the library, Sam requested that Giles take the others outside the Bunker; in the event of a catastrophe the most powerful of them could work to contain the backlash within the stronghold so the rest could escape. Willow had to be dragged away by Glory (who sneered that she didn't care one whit if everyone was obliterated) with her increasingly panicked questions about what would happen to Dawn going unanswered.

Chuck stood up abruptly from Buffy's bed when the door slammed open. He gaped at Dean and then at Amara stuttering, "Wh-Wha-What the–"

"Brother," she groaned, "the Slayers must be removed from me. They fight to destroy me from within." She dropped a shaking arm from Castiel's shoulder to reach out to God. "I understand now why Creation had to be, and I do not want to see it annihilated by my stupidity."

"What's she talking about?" Sam asked warily.

"The balance," Chuck explained as he stood. Castiel put Amara on her feet and her brother took both her hands. "If either of us dies, then the balance is overset, remember?" He looked at each of them. "I can do it, but it will weaken us both for a time."

"Why?" Sam wondered.

"A soul has great power," explained Castiel. "And if I am not mistaken, it has become a part of the Darkness."

"Be like trying to take a piece out of the inside of an active nuclear bomb," Crowley added. "Only this one will wipe out all of bleeding existence if it goes wrong."

"Pretty much," agreed Chuck. "So it'll take a lot of both our concentration and energy to get it done right. And… one more thing." His eyes shifted and they followed his gaze.

He was looking at Dawn. She gave a small nod.

"Oh _hell_ no," Dean growled. "What do you think's gonna happen when Buffy wakes up and her sister's gone?"

"It won't be a problem," said Chuck.

"Why not?"

"Can't you just… trust me, Dean?"

"No!" The hunter lunged for Dawn to pull her out of the room. His continued obscenities were buried under corresponding shouts from Castiel and Sam (and a snort of laughter from Lucifer) as they fought to hold Dean back.

"It's my choice!" Dawn cried out, effectively shutting down the impending melee. "It's my choice," she repeated quietly into the silence.

Dean swiveled around to glare murderously at Crowley. The demon smirked. "Go ahead. Kill me. Her soul just heads for the next higher up on the demonic food chain which would be–" he turned towards Lucifer, "–him. Doubt he wants to do you any favors."

Despite the disappointed expression on his father's face, the archangel agreed. "Dean, Sam. Were you really expecting otherwise? I'm an expert at holding grudges."

"We need a dimension to funnel the excess energy," Chuck clarified as he sat Amara down on the bed. He used a sleeve to gently wipe away the blood from her nose. "Probably that shrimp one."

"What do you mean?" asked Sam.

"Every process creates some kind of… garbage I guess you'd call it. Like the waste from a power plant. The ones that'll come out of this are kind of destructive."

"How much devastation are we talking about?"

"The entire Midwestern United States would become a wasteland," Castiel supplied.

"And there's _no other way_ to open the portals?" Dean demanded.

God shook his head. "When we made the dimensions, we never intended them to be joined. Mortals found ways that neither of us could have predicted. However, every method other than the Key tears the fabric between a little bit more. If we used one of those, we could create another Hellmouth."

"So?"

"Dean," Castiel said as he put a hand on his friend's shoulder, "it is the Slayer's responsibility to care for the Hellmouth. The one in Cleveland is relatively small. _This_ would rival the one under Sunnydale."

Breathing hard from the agony in her head, Amara added, "This could open a permanent gate to Quor'Toth, the darkest of them."

"You know what Buffy would do," Sam told his brother. "She would kill herself trying to maintain both places at once."

"I won't let that happen," Dawn declared determinedly.

Amara beckoned the young girl over and folded her into a warm embrace. "This is what I have seen, brother. This bravery, this love, everything that comes from having a soul. This is the splendor that you wrought from Creation. I am sorry, Dawn, that this must be done to you."

A bright green light emanated from Dawn's heart as the Darkness kissed her gently on the forehead. The young girl smiled and closed her eyes, her tears falling freely. She spared a glance for Chuck, who nodded in mysterious affirmation to whatever had been agreed on between them. Eventually the illumination grew to fill the room and all were forced to avert their eyes.

When it faded, Amara held suspended above her hand a shimmering emerald ball of energy. Dawn was gone.

Sam and Dean were surprisingly calm. "What now?" Sam inquired.

"Now you all wait outside," Chuck said. "You'll know when we're done." He snapped his fingers and he and his sister were alone.

Amara placed the Key to one side and held her brother's hands. "I am sorry, brother," she said softly. "And I forgive you."

With tears in his eyes , Chuck nodded. "Thank you."

* * *

"Pass the rolls, please!"

"Jesus, Dawn," Buffy said. "You've already eaten ten!"

"So? They taste good."

"Dawn, honey," Joyce scolded. "Those green things are called vegetables and you need to eat at least one."

"I gotcha covered, Dawneroonie," Xander called. "Catch!"

Dawn opened her mouth and the young man obligingly tossed a single pea into the maw. Triumphantly the girl looked at her mother and proclaimed, "Ate one!"

Joyce and Buffy exchanged glances and rolled their eyes. On the other side of the table, Willow groaned about overindulging in mashed potatoes. Tara mischievously tried to tempt her into one more bite. Across from them, Anya wafted cranberry sauce in Xander's face. "It looks like guts, but it tastes like berries! This is the best stuff ever!"

"Thanks, no thanks, Ahn," he answered as he eyed the red mash with a newfound horror.

"I'm not _quite_ certain," slurred Giles, "but I _think_ I may have put too much rum in my 'nog." He followed this proclamation with a snorting giggle.

"Giles!" cried Buffy. "I am of the shocked and indignant! Shame on you!"

"I am your Watcher and I will drink as much rum as I like! So there!"

"Well!" exclaimed Joyce. "Who's up for pie?"

A chorus of hearty acknowledgements followed. Dawn had never felt so wonderful. Her mother gave her a kiss on the head and headed for the kitchen. The girl couldn't remember a single night where things had gone so well. All of her loved ones were present (dad was off with his stupid secretary, good riddance), the food was delicious, and the Christmas decorations superb. No demons, no vampires, no Hellmouth nonsense whatsoever could interrupt this holiday dinner, and there was still pie and presents to go!

It was the best night of Dawn's short life, and she now had an eternity to revel in its joy.


	44. Part III: Chapter 44

9/4/2016 - One more chapter and this adventure is over! Planning right now on doing some proofreading of the previous chapters before uploading the last one so if anyone spots stuff that needs fixing feel free to let me know.

I also discovered another fic that paired Anya and Crowley while I was browsing o_o But more romantically. Mine was more of a friendship with benefits.

Thanks to **Jennee77** , **thedarkpokemaster** , **xxRomanceGirlxx** , **davanthony1** , and Mystery Guest(s) for the reviews! And I hope **willdawg99003** will be happier after this chapter ;)

* * *

Dean and Giles drove their respective cars to the front of the Bunker in the event they needed to get away fast. When Xander offered to go get his, he got withering stares.

The waiting seemed interminable, and it was made worse by the divisive tension between those who were "good" and those that were "evil." A few tried to bridge the gap with innocuous conversations, but the history between members of the two groups made too many openings for snide commentary or, in Lucifer's case, outright cruelty. By the time half an hour had passed, Lucifer and Glory had isolated themselves on one side of the road and most of the rest were on the other.

The exceptions were Crowley and Anya. They stood in the middle of the separation chatting happily about the few hundred years since they had last seen one another. If it wasn't for the fact that they were comparing victims and their inadequacies, the two could have been mistaken for a pair of amicable exes catching up. Xander glared jealously.

While Crowley and Anya were remembering their exploits during World War II, Castiel broached the subject that had been troubling him since they had left the Bunker. "Dean," he said quietly. "What are you going to tell Buffy about Dawn?"

"What?"

"What are you going to tell Buffy about her sister?" the seraph asked louder, fairly certain that the confusion was due to his attempt to be secretive.

"Hang on," Xander interjected. "Buffy has a _sister?_ Since when?"

"Yes," Castiel answered, his brow furrowed. Then, after a moment he added, "This situation is starting to feel familiar."

Giles removed his glasses for cleaning and shook his head. "If Buffy had a sister I, of all people, would have known about it."

Anya interrupted the beginning of Crowley's deals with Stalin to state firmly, "Buffy doesn't have a sister."

Crowley gaped at the ex-demon. "Are you–bloody hell, not this again!" He swiveled around towards the "evil" side of the road and yelled, "What did you do now, you stupid interdimensional Hell-whore?"

" _Excuse_ me?" Glory snarled as she picked her way across the dirt in her heels.

"They've forgotten about that bleeding little twerp that your precious Key used to be. Just like how they forgot how you turned into that moronic doctor!"

"Hey, I didn't do anything this time," the Hellgod responded petulantly as she folded her arms. She tilted her head, puzzled, as she stared at the wary members of the "good" side of the road. Abruptly, Glorificus began to laugh. "Oh, too funny!" she snorted.

"What?" Dean snapped.

"You, there," Glory commanded at Anya, pointing. Then to Castiel she called, "You, here." When the two she'd ordered about merely stood there staring, the Hellgod irritably raised her hands. "Now would be good?"

The ex-demon and the angel grudgingly exchanged places as Glory gestured for Lucifer to join the group in the middle of the road. "Your God undid one of the spells the monks cast when they gave the Slayer my Key," she explained smugly to the entire gathering. Then she faced the non-humans in the middle of the road. "Bet you've got two sets of memories about the past couple of weeks."

Castiel didn't, as he had been supplemented by Lucifer up until a few days ago, but he did recall the very first time he had gone to Sunnydale. Just as the Hellgod said, there were two sets of memories associated with the Key. In one, Buffy explained who her sister truly was after he had been rescued and Castiel had beheld the Key turned human inside the Summers household. In another, Buffy spent the car trip fussing over his and Dean's injuries and it had been only the Slayer and her mother back in the home.

There were also instances in the last few days where the young girl had merely been present, only now there was just empty space where she had stood. Minor chores she had performed, like helping with breakfast or packing for the trip to Stull Cemetery, were being done by one of the other humans present. Castiel spent a few minutes switching back and forth between memories and identifying the changes.

He understood why it was done. Dean had been devastated when Sam had thrown himself into the Pit, and, according to Bobby Singer, Sam had felt the same when Dean's crossroads deal had come due. Having already seen the horrors loss had wrought on the Winchesters, Castiel thought the decision to unravel whatever spell the Hellgod mentioned was a very good thing.

Baffled at the pensive expressions on the immortals' faces, the Winchesters and the Sunnydale expats glanced at one another and tried to wait patiently for an explanation. Finally, tired of the silence, Dean yelled, "You guys done yet? Half of you look like you're trying to hold in a poop."

"Wish I was over there," Anya sulked. "Couple of years ago I would have been."

"Ahn," Xander said wearily, "then you'd be a vengeance demon and these guys would have probably chopped your head off by now."

"Or I'd be over there with the _cool_ people instead of being stuck here with the _mortals_."

"Don't worry your pretty little head, love," Crowley called.

"Don't you call her 'pretty' you–" Xander cut himself off when he spotted Anya's glower. "I'm the only one that gets to call her pretty!"

Crowley opened his mouth to retort and the ground suddenly shook beneath them. The minor earthquake lasted several seconds, and when it was done there was thankfully no damage. Giles peered off into the distance and remarked, "I think that was localized. I don't hear any sirens from Lebanon."

"Why am I outside?"

Everyone found themselves immediately drawn to the sound of Buffy's voice. The Slayer was standing a few feet in front of an open Bunker door looking bewildered. When she realized everyone was gaping at her she asked, "What? Something in my hair?" Buffy began a frantic pat down of her blonde locks while the others approached.

"Are you all right?" Giles wondered.

"Yeah, I think so."

"And, um, was your soul replaced?"

Buffy shrugged. "Beats me. I don't feel any different other than being hungry. Who's getting munchies? And what's with the god-squad?"

Most of the inhuman spectators were sniggering with one another while they compared their two sets of memories. As he was the only one who truly cared for any of the humans (and didn't find the confusion funny), Castiel headed for Buffy and gave her a once over. "She has a soul," he proclaimed.

With cheers and happy whoops, the Slayer's friends encased her in an enormous group hug with Willow shoving Giles aside so she could take the prominent position in the middle. The Watcher backed up a few steps away from the joyous crowd and ended up alongside the Winchesters. "At least there's something that's gone right," he told the brothers.

"After all this crap that's been happening?" Sam said. "I think we deserve it." He turned towards Dean. "You all right?"

"Yeah."

"Then what is it? You should be happy."

"Nothing."

"Dude, I know you're lying. Don't act like a girl."

Dean threw his brother an irritated glance and headed for the open door without interrupting the mini celebration occurring around the Slayer. Sam rolled his eyes and took stock of the non-human element. Lucifer and Crowley were sauntering after Dean, and Castiel was staring at the squealing mob with his head cocked. The hunter assumed his friend was trying to interpret the reason why the Sunnydale citizens were carrying on. Glorificus, however, was nowhere to be seen.

With a grimace, the younger Winchester hurried to the Bunker door. Either the Hellgod had entered their safehouse quiet and unseen before the rest of them or she had taken off to engage in whatever sadistic activity had taken taken her fancy. Since the Key was still inside, Sam doubted Glory had left the area.

The Hellgod had so far proven to be everything _but_ subtle or calm; in fact all of their dealings with her showed that she preferred to be violent and direct. Her subterfuge this time couldn't mean anything good.

* * *

Glory had finally lost what minuscule patience she had, and an impatient Hellgod meant nothing good for anyone in her vicinity.

Of course she had agreed to the exchange of items on Lucifer's behalf, but that had been done and over with for some time now. It was time for all of them to make good on their promise to give over her Key. Then Mr. High and Mighty God Whatever could realign the planets and the dimensions and poof! Back to home she could go.

She had so much to do! Kill those traitorous other Hellgods slowly, reaffirm her position as the absolute ruler of her dimension, and really see to her wardrobe. Hmm. Maybe she _could_ keep this luscious little form of hers and just pop in for some new ensembles when the fashion seasons started. After all, her glorious true form really wouldn't fit in heels.

"What am I thinking?" Glory asked no one from her thinking spot in the room next to the Slayer's (she assumed it had once been the vampire's as it was redolent of tobacco and idiocy). Really, if she was considering staying as a puny human then it really was getting time to go.

Well, no time like the present! Now she just needed leverage…

* * *

Dean knocked politely on the doorframe to Buffy's room. "Hey, Chuck. She gonna be okay?"

Amara was sprawled on Buffy's bed, her black dress spread across the sheets. One hand lay on her sternum moving up and down with the steady rhythm of her breathing. Chuck patted his sister gently on the knee and gave Dean a weary smile. "She'll be fine. Soon as she wakes up she'll be good as new."

"Yeah? Then what?"

God sighed as he said, "We spoke a little bit before we began and were thinking a little mini-vacation through the dimensions. I didn't realize how many we'd made trying to get things right. The shrimp one is kaput though."

Dean eyed the green ball hovering brightly over the dresser. "So you're going to take that?"

"Yeah. She… _It_ wants to go. Too many bad memories of this dimensional plane."

Recalling how they had carted the thing around California trying to keep it from the Hellgod made the hunter frown. He noticed Chuck was giving him an odd look. "What?"

"Uh, nothing. Anyways, I need to rest up too and get my strength back. Think we can order a pizza?"

Feeling his stomach rumble at the thought of a greasy pie of cheese, sauce, and various mystery meats, Dean started to nod in agreement. Suddenly he felt a hard yank on the back of his shirt. Before he could comprehend the sensation, the hunter's head smacked into the hallway's brick and cement wall and all went dark.

* * *

"How _dare_ you," Glory snarled as she advanced on Chuck. "Talking about taking off with _my_ Key? On a stupid _road trip_ with your big sister?"

Chuck shot up on shaky legs and backed up away from the Hellgod. He bumped into the dresser where the Key had been placed. This was not good _at all_. Excising the Slayer's soul had been more difficult than he expected and he was drained, far more than he had been for a while. "Amara," God hissed, "now would be a good time to wake up!"

The Darkness continued sleeping, her essence concentrating on repairing itself. Chuck had essentially given her part of himself in order to seal the gap made by removing Buffy's soul. Only Amara could give that back and only _after_ she had healed herself of the wound. A chunk of his power was therefore temporarily missing and the Hellgod had become a deadly threat.

Furious, Glory stalked up to Chuck and backhanded him away from her Key. He crashed into the bedside table and stifled a cry at the impact. The Hellgod grasped the emerald sphere and laughed with delight. Desperately, Chuck reached out and pleaded, "Just wait, please! I had no intention of keeping it from you. Let me show you how to use it or you'll destroy this world!"

God shrank back at the malicious grin Glorificus pointed at him. "I get to go home _and_ everyone here dies? Sounds like a plan."

* * *

"Dean!" Sam yelled as he spotted his brother lying prostrate on the hallway floor. He rushed forward, his anxious tone alerting the others that there was a problem. As the younger Winchester knelt down to discern what had happened, Glory walked out of Buffy's bedroom, one hand filled with the Key while the opposite arm was wrapped around Chuck's neck.

The others, Willow and Castiel in the forefront, skidded to a stop when they saw the Hellgod and her hostage. "Ah-ah-ah!" she admonished as she squeezed tight her chokehold on Chuck. God's face scrunched up in pain.

"B-But it's _God_ ," a panicked Willow said as she looked up at Castiel. "Shouldn't he be, you know, of the not-killable type?"

"Uh-oh," Lucifer drawled as he leaned against the wall and smirked. "Daddy's not doing so well."

Glory loosened her hold slightly around Chuck's neck so he could explain. "I'm vulnerable," he rasped. "Amara needed… part of my power…"

"Yeah, yeah, blah blah," mocked the Hellgod. "Point is, I could tear apart your big ol' God here and he might actually _die_. So unless you wanna watch me spread Chuck's guts around the–uh."

Glorificus looked down at the ichor covered hand that was now jutting from her chest. In her shock she stumbled backwards two steps, releasing both God and her Key, and ended up with the Darkness' other arm folded around her neck.

"Dear daughter," Amara murmured into Glory's ear, "you should have learned to respect your elders." A swirling black cloud snaked its way up the Hellgod's form and she began to scream. The smoke coalesced, drawing Glorificus into its unknowable depths, and with a final shriek she was gone.

"What did you do?" Giles wondered quietly.

"I have undone her," Amara announced.

Chuck coughed a few times, massaging his throat. "She's been destroyed _beyond_ the molecular level. It would be easier to remake Gabriel than to try and scrape Glorificus back together."

Castiel walked forward to crouch near Dean. He placed two fingers on his friend's head and the hunter let out a groan. Buffy pushed her way through the crowd to join the Winchesters and the seraph on the floor. "Are you okay?" she asked worriedly.

Rubbing the sore back of his head, Dean brought himself up to a sitting position and looked around blearily. "The hell happened?"

"Glory," Sam replied grimly.

"And?"

"Amara," answered Buffy.

"Awesome."

"I don't know about the rest of you," Xander called out, "but the baddy's gone and I'm starved. Who's up for a boozy party?"

"Sounds good to me," said Chuck cheerily as he snapped his fingers.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : I assumed that the non human people would retain the memories because of the whole Glory/Ben thing. Also assumed that a weakened God could be killed by Glory because when he was weakened by Amara in the show he kind of looked like a dude with stage five colon cancer. Or something. Also: plot.


	45. Part III: Chapter 45

9/6/2016 - I've been getting a few comments about the romance bits, and to be honest I have no freaking idea what I'm doing with them. This would be my first time trying to actually develop this sort of thing and kind of went with the flow instead of a structured guideline. If you liked it, okay, if not, well I apologize :(

Added a bit to the end of Chapter 43. Felt Dawn needed a bit more sendoff. Edits continuously happening because I'm of the picky sort and I always find something wrong -_-

Anyways, here we go for the Finale. Thank you everyone who stuck with me the whole time! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed! And thank you ahead of time for not killing me for ending!

* * *

"So you're quite certain you do not know a Dawn?"

"How many times do I have to say it? No, Cass, I've never had a sister named Dawn. You'd think I'd remember if my mom ever brought home a baby."

The seraph sighed in relief. "Okay. Thank you."

"Here," Buffy said as she handed him a beer. "Relax a bit!"

Chuck had gone all out in making a party. Lights, streamers, balloons, and a mix of the best rock and roll dance songs from the sixties to the seventies were all set up in the library (the tables temporarily removed). In the adjacent kitchen he'd provided pizza, beer, and liquor. There was something for everyone to enjoy.

After setting everything up, Amara and Chuck spent several minutes alone in order to restore God's borrowed power. When they returned to the feasting crowd, the Darkness gave apologies to both Buffy and Dean. The former received it graciously, the latter begrudgingly. After that, Chuck declared everything to be settled and that it was time for the partying to get started.

Crowley set himself up with a bottle of excellent cognac on the kitchen table, then surprisingly found a second glass plunked down beside his own. The demon exchanged respectful nods with Giles and the two spent the celebration pouring drinks and sitting in companionable silence.

The other Sunnydale expats danced merrily on the cleared library floor. No amount of coaxing could get Castiel or Dean to join them, but they eventually wore down Sam. Relishing in the memories of (relatively) carefree days partying at Stanford, the younger Winchester let alcohol break his inhibitions. Later, Sam made his brother swear that he would never, _ever_ remind him of his dance floor antics.

Willow took a break and cornered Lucifer with drinks and conversation, hoping to eat away at the disdain for humanity the archangel had harbored for centuries. Despite Lucifer's inability to address her in a tone not redolent with contempt, the witch was persistent, and somehow he found himself actually beginning to like her. The archangel had to admit that there _were_ a few of the little dirt monkeys that weren't so despicable. A _very_ few.

Chuck and Amara sat watching the festivities from the map table with small smiles. They spoke a little about their future, but they were for the most part merely content to be with their family again.

Castiel kept away from the ruckus by sitting in the demon cell with the Key. He was astonished to discover that the former, vacuous ball of energy had retained a minor amount of self-awareness and could express feelings if not words. Much of what it responded with correlated with what the seraph remembered of Dawn. He assumed that the monk's spell had altered the Key more than they could have anticipated. The two celestial beings spent their time "conversing," with Castiel speaking and the Key answering. He was happy to know that some vestige of the child would still exist.

Muffins ate half a pizza before anyone noticed. Crowley and Giles witnessed the carnage but thought the dog deserved her own celebratory meal. Dean rushed in to rescue the precious pie and started walking towards Buffy's room to deposit the fluffy burden.

Spotting his exit, the Slayer rushed after him. "Hey!" she called.

"Here," Dean said as he stopped in the hallway and shoved the yipping bundle at its owner. "All yours."

"Wait." Buffy put Muffins on the ground. The puppy immediately plopped over panting happily and showing off a distended tummy. "You haven't said more than a word to me since I got my soul back."

The hunter shrugged. "What is there to say?"

"Uh, how about: I'm so glad for you, Buffy? I missed you while you were experiencing God-induced sleepage, Buffy? Let's have us a kiss, Buffy?"

Dean folded his arms. "How about: exactly what I warned you about just went down, Buffy? Damnit, you lost your frigging soul because someone was after me. Nothing you can deny about it."

"Well, okay." The Slayer thought for a moment. "But you didn't make me try to kill her with a sword, _and_ you're not the reason Spike was even here to be a jerk. By the way, no fair staking him while I was out!"

"Dude deserved it."

"Duh. I'm just disappointed I didn't get to do it myself."

"There a point to all this?"

"The point is that there's enough guilt to go around for what happened, so no use doing your mopey Dean thing."

"'Mopey Dean thing'?"

"Yeah, this whole thing where you're blaming yourself for everything bad that happens. You wanna blame yourself for the stuff that happened _before_ you stepped foot in Sunnydale? Like, you known Hellmouthy stuff?"

"No! It's just…" Frustrated, Dean threw his hands up and let them drop. "Look, your Watcher already told me that you gotta go back to your Hellmouth. I already made the stupid mistake of asking you to stay and now I don't know what to do!"

After a moment of silence, Buffy quietly pleaded, "Can't you come with me instead of staying here?"

"And do what, Buffy? I ain't smart like Sam so I'm not going to that college of yours. I don't even got any real job skills other than hunting." Dean sighed. "I did the home life thing for a while, okay? And something came and bit me in the ass like it always does."

"So? I'm the Slayer. Fighting bad guys; that's what I do."

"Yeah, Hellmouth demons and dusty vamps and all that simpler crap. Crowley and Lucifer out there are puttin' on a good show, but they've got frigging eternity to make good on the their debts, and believe me, me and Sammy have racked up a lot. Once Chuck's gone they're gonna go back to trying to make our lives hell."

Buffy folded her arms and glared. "They don't scare me."

Dean glared back. "Either of them could snap their fingers and that'd be the end of every one of your pals in that room."

The Slayer's eyes watered. "You're not coming. I can't stay. What do we do?"

For a moment, Dean let himself feel devastated by the inevitability of their separation. Then he squirreled it away and covered his lapse with a smirk. "Hey, we got at least tonight."

Buffy managed a smile of her own. "Yeah, we do." She grabbed his lapels. "Might as well make the most of it," said the Slayer as she pulled him to his room.

* * *

The party wound down around 2am when the humans had decided they were too drunk or too tired to continue. Xander and Sam catcalled at Dean's door as they passed; his and Buffy's absence hadn't gone unnoticed. Once they realized that the mortals were either doing a private celebration of their own or, in Giles and Sam's cases, fallen over on their bed in a drunken stupor, Amara and Chuck recast the Bunker's wards. Both Lucifer and Crowley wore disappointed frowns while Castiel curiously flipped through the December 1952 edition of Busty Asian Beauties.

"There," Chuck said as he swiped his hands together. "Added a few more besides in case anymore Hellgods come calling." He turned to his sister. "You ready to talk to them?"

Amara nodded and the pair of omnipotent beings cast their gazes on Crowley, who squirmed, and Lucifer, who lifted an eyebrow. "We have been speaking about Hell," the Darkness explained, "and how it has fallen."

"Hey!" Crowley cried indignantly.

"We need time to truly reconcile," added Chuck, "and while the angels have things kind of figured out, Hell is a mess."

"We would like you, nephew, to rule the demons."

"Really now?" Lucifer asked, clearly uninterested.

"Yes, son," Chuck confirmed. "Your brothers and sisters are content upstairs not interfering with humanity, but demons are, well, demons."

"You are not to obliterate them," cautioned Amara.

"Aw," pouted the archangel.

"Balance," said Chuck. "It must be maintained. And, frankly, the demons aren't going to listen to him anymore."

"It's _his_ fault!" Crowley complained petulantly.

"No, it's _yours_ ," corrected the Darkness. "You lost their respect a long time ago with your shenanigans. But we _would_ like you to be Lucifer's advisor."

"Without the dog collar, son," said Chuck.

"What?" exclaimed both Lucifer and Crowley. "Him? Why?"

"The demons will fear and follow you," God clarified for Lucifer.

"But it is you who understands how Hell truly works," Amara said to Crowley.

The archangel and the demon glowered at one another. Crowley capitulated first, shrugging and looking intrigued. "Don't want to be looking over my shoulder all the bloody time."

Lucifer, however, was adamantly opposed to the idea. "I really don't care about Hell or whether or not it'll fall apart. Give me another incentive."

"You can keep Michael in the Cage," Amara suggested. Chuck sputtered indignantly.

"I'm in!" the archangel responded cheerfully.

Castiel sighed.

* * *

Lucifer and Crowley walked out of the Bunker soon after. Chuck and Amara then joined them in Hell for a short conference with some of the more influential demons to reinforce God's decree. The presence of God and the Darkness certainly did wonders to subdue the more unruly members, especially when Chuck didn't object to his son smiting one after a rude remark.

After that, God quietly gave Crowley an "emergency contact" spell just in case his son decided to go back on his word. Amara also gave the demon a warning not to stab Lucifer in the back while standing behind the throne. She vowed that if he did, she would return and exact a terrible punishment. Crowley paled and made his promise.

By the time the duo returned it was late morning at the Bunker and the humans were brunching on leftover pizza. They explained what had happened to general astonishment before offering to deposit the Sunnydale residents back home.

Buffy glanced at Dean and sighed; then, more practically, asked, "Uh, I don't suppose you'd…"

"Already done," responded Chuck. "Bank account's full for all of you. Kind of payment for services rendered, you know?"

"Us too?" Sam wondered.

"Sort of. Yours are on these cards." God lay two Visas in front of the younger Winchester. "But it's not an unlimited amount. Just enough to get you all comfortable and settled."

As most of them used each others' phones to eagerly check their bank accounts for the additions, Amara gently pulled Buffy aside. "I want to apologize again."

"It's okay," the Slayer said. "I mean, you got rid of Glory so I think we're about even."

"I also wanted to tell you: Dean will join you in your home."

"What?"

"I know he will be there." Amara gently placed her hand on Buffy's cheek. "It was your soul that showed me the beauty of my brother's work. I would return the favor by giving you hope."

When the Slayer next looked at Dean, the desolation was gone from her eyes. She then realized that the others were crowing about the seven digit amounts that were now in their bank accounts. Anya was particularly excited, bouncing up and down in her seat while crying out various things she really needed to buy.

"No, Dean," an exasperated Sam was admonishing, "you can't spend it on a lifetime subscription to Busty–"

"Fine! Killjoy."

* * *

It took a few more hours for the Sunnydale residents to gather their belongings and prepare to leave. The Winchesters gave an open door policy to all of them, an invitation that Giles and Willow were sure to take up on. They packed their things into both Xander and Giles' cars and made their goodbyes.

Dean eyed Buffy warily as she stood before him. Her misery over his conviction that they wouldn't see each other for a good long while seemed to have disappeared. The Slayer gave the hunter a smirk that he was certain she'd learned from him before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him lightly on the lips. "It was wonderful, Dean. Everything."

"Yeah, it was," he answered as he tightened their embrace. "I promise, whenever we're near California we'll drop in."

"You better."

There were hand shakings and vows made all around while God and the Darkness watched, smiling. Amara was astonished to receive a hug from Buffy, and Chuck was nearly knocked over with a group hug from all the Sunnydale youth. They treated Castiel to the same, only he actually _did_ fall over and was dogpiled under the laughing group. Sam gave Muffins her own teary-eyed farewell while Dean rolled his eyes. Then, with the Key floating in his hand, God gave the Winchesters a nod in thanks and snapped his fingers.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel stared at the empty space in front of the Bunker. "Dean," said the seraph, "why did you not go with her?"

"What?"

"Don't humans stay with those they couple with often?"

"Dude!" Sam exclaimed.

"Also, Buffy has a child coming. I think you should name her Dawn. It's a very nice name."

The Winchesters gaped at their friend before staring at each other. "You didn't–" began Sam.

"I didn't think about it at the time, okay?"

Silence reigned before the younger Winchester threw his arms up and let them drop. "So, we packing?"

"I will keep an eye on the Men of Letter's Bunker," assured Castiel.

"I… I…" Dean stuttered, clearly unable to process the news.

After exchanging glances, Sam grabbed one of his brother's arms and Castiel grabbed the other. "Don't worry," soothed the younger Winchester as they dragged him inside. "We already know how to change diapers. Remember the shapeshifter baby?"

"Baby?"

"I will be there to ensure the child's safety," added Castiel.

"Child?"

"I like the name Dawn, too," Sam concurred. "Maybe Dawn Mary Summers-Winchester."

"Dawn?"

"You will be a better father than any of us have known," reassured the seraph.

"Father?"

"Cass," Sam said over his brother's head. "I think you broke him. Drink?" he asked Dean.

"Drink," agreed the elder hunter. "Then pack. Then go."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

 _Fin_

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Ending with thoughts of future possibilities! That's what this is. I might attempt a sequel in the future, particularly with Season 12 on the horizon (squee!) but I've got Paschendale and Astronomy Domine to handle in the meantime. Please give them a try if you've got a moment!

Thank you to all my reviewers and commenters: **Authoressinhiding** , **Mike3207** , **sweetzchristopher** , **lilnudger82** , **ggf1** , **Jennee77** , **The Urban Spaceman** , **deadly embrace** , **willdawg992003** , **CrystalCipher** , , **demon19027** , **Wlyman2009** , **Scaramou** , **daveanthony1** , and whoever you strange and wonderful Mystery Guests were!

Special thanks to **xxRomanceGirlxx** , **thedarkpokemaster** , and **IoSolUno** (even though I lost you part of the way) for being there from the beginning! :D

On to the next story…


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